


He's All That

by EclecticMuse



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), She's All That (1999)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Alternate Universe - High School, Betrayal, Bets, Comedy, Enemies to Friends, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Fitzsimmons Rom-Com Challenge, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Friends to Lovers, Gen, High School, Humor, Mild Angst, Romance, Romantic Comedy, Romantic Fluff, Swearing, Teen Romance, Underage Drinking, gender swap au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-06
Updated: 2016-10-07
Packaged: 2018-08-13 10:16:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 44,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7973230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EclecticMuse/pseuds/EclecticMuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When pretty, popular high school student Jemma Simmons gets dumped by her boyfriend just weeks before senior prom, she finds her perfect social track record in jeopardy. Against her better judgment, she accepts a bet to get her grumpy classmate Leo Fitz elected prom king in order to prove she's still got it. However, the bet doesn't go as planned, and Jemma thinks she just might be falling for him...but what will happen when he finds out the truth?</p><p>Gender-swap AU of the 1999 film She's All That. Written for the Fitzsimmons Network Rom-Com Challenge on Tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I unashamedly enjoy She's All That, so I was really excited to get this for the Rom-Com Challenge, and I had a lot of fun writing it. Big thanks go to agentverbivore for cheering me on as I wrote, and letterstoelise for being an absolutely fantastic beta. Thank you guys so much! I hope everyone enjoys. As always, thoughts and comments are welcomed and loved.

For the first time in her life, Jemma Simmons was anxious about going to school.

Logically, she knew she had no reason to be. She excelled at her studies and was on track to graduate first in her class; she was also popular and well-liked, serving as both class president and captain of the debate team, and was voted most likely to succeed in senior superlatives. She’d never suffered from a lack of confidence, either. She took a lot of pride in her self-assurance and firm sense of self. Yet no matter how many times she ran through her mental checklist of reasons not to worry, she still felt apprehensive. It was a certain change in her personal life that was giving her pause.  

But sitting in her car in the school parking lot wasn’t going to change any of that. Jemma checked her reflection in the rearview mirror--eyes bright, smile fixed in place--and got out of her car, pulling the straps of her backpack over her shoulders. Then she headed for the school’s main entrance, her chin held high. It was first thing in the morning; there was no way anyone would know. Yet. She was safe, if only for a few more minutes.

She saw her friends sitting on their usual bench near the front doors, and headed for them. Callie looked up as she approached, and waved; Bobbi followed, calling out, “Hey, Jemma! How was your spring break?”

“It was fine,” Jemma said, as cheerfully as she could. “Skiing was fun.”

But Raina was looking at the empty space beside her and frowning. “Is Ed sick today?” she asked.

“No, I don’t think so,” Jemma replied evenly. _Here it comes_.

“Well, where is he?”

She affected an air of nonchalance. “I don’t know.”

Raina made a face, confused. “What do you mean, you don’t know?”

“Yeah,” Callie chimed in. “You guys are practically fused at the hip.”

“Oh, we are not,” Jemma protested, knowing it was technically untrue. She and Ed had spent most of the past three years doing almost everything together. They were inseparable. (Except, now, they weren’t.)

Bobbi didn’t look convinced either, concern writ in the furrow of her brow. “You are so. What’s going on?”.

Jemma sighed. There was no running from it now, and besides, these were her friends. “Well,” she said, tucking her hair behind one ear, “he might have, sort of, possibly...broken up with me?”

“What?!” Bobbi and Raina cried, just as Callie shrieked “When?!”

They all sprung up from their seats, putting their phones aside to cluster around her, peppering her with questions. Jemma grimaced and ducked her head slightly, letting them get it all out of their system. “What happened?” Raina. “Oh my god, tell us everything!” Callie. “I’m so sorry, are you okay?” Bobbi.

“I’m--I’m fine,” she said, waving them off, feeling self-conscious of anyone who might be eavesdropping. “I mean it,” she added, when they gave her disbelieving looks. “I’ll be okay.”

Callie shook her head. “Did he say why he wanted to break up? I mean, you guys have been together for almost all of high school, he can’t just up and dump you for no reason.” Next to her, Bobbi nodded, and Raina looked curious too.

Jemma sighed. She wasn’t eager to share the details of their breakup--not because she was heartbroken, but rather because she was furious, indignant, and a little betrayed. Biting her lip, she shrugged. “He said...he said he was just tired of me,” she said, mentally replaying the whole conversation. “He thinks I talk too much and that I always have to be right and--and it makes him feel unintelligent.” She rolled her eyes. “Like it’s my fault that he has _no_ ambition whatsoever, no life goals, and doesn’t want to apply himself!”

Raina’s eyebrows went up. “Wow, that’s really harsh,” she said, though she looked like she was fighting an amused smile. “So, he just--cut you off completely? Just like that?”

“Well...not exactly.” Jemma rolled her eyes again. “He said he’d still be willing to go to the prom with me as friends, because--and I quote--’you _know_ we’re going to get prom king and queen so we _have_ to go together.’ I told him no. After the way he insulted me, did he really think I’d still go with him? I thought a clean break would be best.”

“That’s so strange,” Bobbi murmured. “That he just suddenly decided overnight that he didn’t like you anymore.”

“I know!” Jemma shook her head. “He’s always agreed with me on almost everything. But still, whatever happened, I won’t change for him.”

“But did he really insult you, though?” Callie asked. “I mean, you _do_ talk a lot.”

Jemma gave her an incredulous look. “Of course it was an insult! He wanted me to _dumb myself down_ for him. I will never do that, not for anyone.”

“If that’s how he feels, maybe this is for the best,” Bobbi said, reaching out to give her a sympathetic arm squeeze. “You don’t need that in your life. Still, I’m sorry.”

She gave her a small smile in return, but the sound of the bell interrupted any further conversation. Sighing, they all gathered their backpacks and headed for the front door.

“Any bets on how long before everyone knows?” Callie said.

“Oh, it’ll be all over school before lunch,” Raina replied confidently. “You know Ed can’t keep his mouth shut.”

Jemma sighed again, her shoulders sagging a little. She didn’t mind being the topic of school gossip, and was even used to it--but it had always been for things like her grades or her extracurriculars, or whatever party Ed and his friends had thrown that weekend. Being talked about because her boyfriend of three years had just dumped her, especially given the reasons _why_ , was not appealing to her at all. She’d never had to deal with negative gossip, and she didn’t want to start.

“Well, it’s just a breakup,” she said, without much conviction. “It can’t be _that_ interesting to talk about.”

“Yeah, right,” Raina laughed shortly. “You’re only the most popular couple in school. This is _the_ breakup. You’ll see.”

-:-

As it turned out, Raina was correct. Even though Jemma had only told the three of them, by noon it seemed like everyone in school knew Ed had dumped her. She could feel the eyes of her curious classmates following her as she walked through the halls from class to class, and she couldn’t escape their whispers and questions, not even in the bathroom. By the end of the day, she was thoroughly done with it all, and wanted nothing more than to just go home and pretend nothing had happened. Stiff upper lip, and all. Her British sensibilities would see her through.

“I actually think you’re taking this really well,” Trip said as he, Jemma, Bobbi, and Raina walked outside after the final bell. Trip was a mutual friend of Jemma and Ed, and was apparently taking her side in the ‘custody battle’, as Raina put it. “Ed was in Marine Biology acting like he’d just been set free after years of living in captivity. Gotta say, I’m disappointed in him. You don’t deserve that.”

“Well, it’s nice to know he’s being mature about it,” Jemma replied thinly, crossing her arms. “And would you believe--I had some girls stop me after Calculus and _thank_ me for being enough of a harpy to make Ed break up with me! They think now he’s single, they’ve got a chance with him. Honestly, if they’re going to act that way, they all deserve each other.”

Bobbi gave her a gentle elbow bump. “You’re not a harpy, Jemma.”

She smiled despite herself. “Thanks, Bobbi.”

“Even if you aren’t, all of this talk isn’t good for your image,” Raina said as they passed another group of staring, whispering students. “Your legacy is in danger. You’ve been squeaky-clean for four years, but with this happening so close to graduation, people might only remember you as a bitchy control freak. And you’ve still got prom queen elections, too. This might ruin your perfect track record.”

Jemma frowned. “Is prom queen really that big of a deal, though? It’s just a title. And--I can’t really help what others think of me, can I? If they think I’m perfect, it’s only because that’s how they choose to see me. I have flaws, just like everyone else. Even Ed isn’t all everyone’s made him out to be.”

“I gotta disagree,” Trip said. “Ed’s the top of the social food chain here. Every guy wants to be him, every girl wants to bang him.” At Jemma’s sour face, he shrugged. “Might not be want you want to hear, but it’s true.”

“It really is,” Raina added.

“Do _you_ want to be Ed?” Bobbi asked Trip, smirking.

Trip laughed. “Girl, you know I don’t. I’m secure with myself.”

Jemma shook her head, suddenly feeling extremely uncharitable towards her ex-boyfriend. “But it’s all just an illusion. If you take away his good looks and all of his family connections, he’s just a B- average with a trust fund.” When Bobbi snorted, hiding a smile behind one hand, she rushed to add, “He is! If anything, _I_ helped _his_ reputation. I don’t need him to--to be popular, or win prom queen, or anything like that. You could replace him with anyone else and he’d probably be voted in as prom king instead, just because he was with me.”

Trip’s eyebrows went up. “That’s a pretty serious statement.” Beside him, Bobbi nodded.

She set her jaw. “I meant it seriously.”

Raina stopped in the middle of the walkway, forcing the rest of them to stop with her. She gave Jemma a speculative once-over. “Want to make a bet?” she asked.

Jemma narrowed her eyes. Beside her, Trip took a step forward, holding his hands out. “Uh, do you really want to be doing this? I mean, she’s not exactly heartbroken or anything, but she’s still in a vulnerable position and you shouldn’t encourage her competitive streak--”

Raina crossed her arms. “No, she thinks she can do it, let her prove it. Bet?”

It was very tempting. Jemma didn’t want to admit it, but Ed had put a sizable dent in her normally ironclad self-esteem. If someone she’d been close to for years thought she was awful, a domineering know-it-all with control issues, what did it really say about her? Was that how she really presented to the world? The opinion of her fellow classmates didn’t matter so much, as they would all be graduating and going their separate ways in a few weeks, but it could spell doom for her continued academic aspirations. She dreamed of going into biochemical research; a large part of that would involve collaboration and networking with fellow scientists. If she had a difficult personality, it might hinder her prospects.

The rational part of her brain told her that submitting to any sort of bet was not a good idea, but with her confidence in tatters, she felt the need to prove she was likeable, still in control of herself, and didn’t need Ed to be successful. And Trip was right--she did have a competitive streak, and Raina had just tapped right into it.

“What sort of bet?” she asked. Trip and Bobbi both groaned in dismay.

Raina’s mouth drew up in a smirk. “I pick a guy. Any guy in school. And you’ve got six weeks to turn him into the prom king. But--you can’t nominate him. Someone else has to.”

Jemma considered it. Six weeks was plenty of time, she figured, given she was at least on friendly acquaintance terms with most of the school’s population. And Raina hadn’t stipulated anything beyond the prom king title; she wouldn’t have to get too deeply involved with anyone. All she had to do was make a new friend, raise his visibility a little, get his name on the ballot--and bam, Ed was no longer a shoo-in for prom king.

“Deal,” she said firmly.

“Aw girl, no,” Trip groaned, but Jemma tuned both him and Bobbi out as Raina laughed excitedly, clapping her hands together.

“Excellent, excellent,” she said, pleased. “Well, then. Shall we go shopping?”

Jemma followed Raina as they walked around the school’s outer courtyard, taking stock of all of the guys who were hanging around, chatting, or on their way to the parking lot or other various after-school activities. Bobbi and Trip followed a short distance behind, not looking thrilled but also unable to look away.

“No, not him,” Raina murmured as they passed a guy Jemma vaguely recognized as being a junior in the marching band. Did he play trumpet? Or was it trombone? No matter--Raina had discounted him. “Not them, either,” she added, nodding as half the varsity football team ran past. “Too easy. Oh, what about this guy?” She pointed at a greasy-looking boy who was in the midst of pulling up his sagging jeans while also eating a Twinkie.

“Oh goodness, no, please,” Jemma murmured, wrinkling her nose. Raina laughed, scanning the courtyard again. Suddenly, her eyes lit up with pure delight.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we have a winner!” she cried, pointing. Jemma turned to look, and her heart dropped.

Coming up the stairs from a lower level of the courtyard was someone she was very familiar with. He’d tripped on the top step, sending his bag and his armful of cardboard paper tubes scattering across the concrete. Cheeks red and head ducked against the light laughter of the students closest to him, he was currently scrambling to get all of them picked up.

“Leo Fitz?” Jemma blurted, looking at Raina with wide eyes. “Oh no. No, not him.”

Raina merely smirked. “You agreed to the terms, Jemma.” She looked behind them. “Right, Trip?”

Trip shook his head. “Hey, no, this is between you two.”

Across the courtyard, Fitz picked up the last of his cardboard tubes and stomped off toward the benches facing the parking lot. Jemma watched him go before turning back to Raina in desperation. “Weird! I can handle weird, or strange, or possibly bad breath or a bad personality, but--grumpy and inaccessible? _No_. He hates me, Raina. _Hates_ me.”         

Raina made a show of checking the time on her phone before smiling innocently. “Well, don’t just stand there. Time’s wasting. If you’re going to turn Leo Fitz into the prom king, you’ve really got your work cut out for you.”

Jemma stared helplessly at her for a moment before looking back at Trip and Bobbi. Trip was watching in morbid fascination, but Bobbi raised her eyebrows as if to say, _you got yourself into this_. Then she gestured for Jemma to go talk to him.

She turned to look at where Fitz was now sitting alone on one of the benches, a wide berth between him and the other students gathered there. Then she took a deep breath and squared her shoulders before setting off. She could do this. She was Jemma Simmons, all-around friendly and likeable girl. _Not_ Jemma Simmons, the harpy.

But her stomach was filled with dread as she crossed the courtyard. Leo Fitz had been her academic nemesis from almost day one of their freshman year, constantly trying to one-up her in class and on projects--without ever so much as a glance or a word in her general direction. He’d never spoken to her. He didn’t really speak to anyone else, either, but it had galled her that she’d once made an overture of friendship, only to be shut down completely. A part of her had always wondered what she’d done wrong.

Now she had an opportunity to try again. Maybe, this time, she would succeed.

Fitz’s head was down as she approached him, his nose stuck in his phone, so he didn’t notice when she stopped right in front of him, clasping her hands in front of her. She politely cleared her throat. “Um...excuse me. Fitz? I was wondering if you’d like to…”

His head had shot up at the sound of her voice, his eyes wide, but he almost immediately looked back down, his brows drawn together and his mouth pressing into a thin line. Then he went back to scrolling through his phone. Jemma hesitated, thrown by his flat dismissal, but decided to press on.

“I was wondering if I could--”

Fitz stood suddenly, shoving his phone into his pocket and readjusting his hold on his paper tubes, before pushing past her to go toward the parking lot. Stunned, Jemma turned to follow, only to see him join up with another girl, her long dark hair pulled back in a ponytail. She recognized her as Daisy Johnson, the only person Fitz ever seemed to spend any time with.

Daisy looked between the two of them curiously. “Am I interrupting something?” she asked.

Jemma opened her mouth to reply, but she heard Fitz mutter “no” before he took Daisy by the elbow, pulling her with him. “Come on.”

She watched, open-mouthed, as they left. Daisy looked back at her, frowning, but she didn’t try to stop Fitz. Then Jemma was left alone, painfully aware of the stares and the snickers of the other students who had just witnessed her getting snubbed. Feeling her cheeks heat up, she turned to look at where Raina, Trip, and Bobbi were still standing, watching. Raina burst into laughter, clutching her sides, while Trip just shook his head. Bobbi winced.

Jemma swallowed. This was _not_ going to be easy.


	2. Chapter 2

Jemma tried several more times over the course of the week to try and talk to Fitz, to no avail. When she sat next to him in AP Calculus, he ignored her. When she approached him at lunch, he got up and left. When she tried waiting for him at his locker, he ducked into the nearest restroom and didn’t come back out until the bell rang. He was doing everything in his power to avoid her, and she was nearly at her wit’s end.

“I don’t even know why he hates me so much,” she complained. It was Friday afternoon and Jemma was sitting with Trip, Bobbi, and Bobbi’s boyfriend Hunter at lunch. “He’s never let me do more than say hello to him! It must be because I’ve got him beat for valedictorian. It’s the only thing I can think of.”

“Yeah, but...for four _years_?” Hunter asked, dunking a french fry into his ketchup. “That’s a really long time to hate someone over grades.”

Jemma shrugged. “If he’s anything like me, he knew it was crucial to get off to a good start. One slipped grade could mean a severe dip in his GPA.”

“I swear you two would be the only people ever to worry about their GPA during _freshman year_ ,” Hunter muttered.

Bobbi elbowed him. “That’s not true! I cared about mine.”

Trip laughed. “We’ve got to figure out a way to get him talking,” he said. “Or else you’re sunk. Raina was right, you’ve definitely got your work cut out for you.”

Jemma sighed. “I think I’ve run out of options.”

“Maybe you just need to try a different angle,” Bobbi suggested. “Find something you guys have in common, and start there. Or, better yet, find out what he likes to do for fun, and give that a shot.”

“Do people like him even _know_ how to have fun?” Jemma grumbled. “He’s--I swear, he’s the biggest grump I’ve ever met. ‘Fun’ probably isn’t in his vocabulary.”

Hunter snorted.

“Hey, how about this,” Trip said, leaning forward over his lunch tray. “Try getting him at work. I think he works at Best Buy, I’ve seen him there before in uniform. Just go in and act like you’re looking for something, and he _can’t_ ignore you. As a customer, he’s got to help.”

“That’s not a bad idea,” Bobbi said, smiling, and Jemma had to agree with her. It sounded like the best shot she had--she really was out of ideas on how to get him to speak to her, short of staking out his house, and she was _not_ willing to do that. Fitz could ignore her at school, but he couldn’t at work, could he? Not if he wanted to do his job well, assuming he cared about his job performance to begin with. She was banking on it.

“I’ll do it,” she said, her mind made up. “I’ll see if he’s working tonight. I just hope it works.”

-:-

After school let out for the day, Jemma went home and waited until she felt enough time had passed for someone working evening hours to clock in for their shift. She debated changing clothes into something a little nicer, but decided against it--she and Fitz had almost all of their classes together, and even if he was determined to deny her very existence, he had to at least be somewhat aware of what she’d worn to school. Showing up in a different outfit might make things weird.

She gave herself a pep talk in the mirror, made sure she looked presentable, then hopped in her car and drove across town to their local Best Buy.

In the parking lot, she ran over her prepared speech in her head. After the first few failed attempts at getting Fitz’s attention, Jemma had decided having a plan in place would work best. She wasn’t just trying to strike up a random conversation; she had a few specific topics in mind, things she hoped they had in common that might convince him to give her a chance. The problem had always been the introduction. If she could just get past saying hello to him, she was sure she could catch his interest.

Once inside, Jemma considered the best way to go around the store and discreetly look for Fitz, but then she spied Daisy behind the customer service counter. Daisy looked up as she approached, her eyebrows raised.

“Stalking is illegal in all fifty states, you know,” she said when Jemma was within earshot, but she was smiling.

Jemma sighed. “I’m not stalking him,” she said, a bit amused that Daisy didn’t even have to ask why she was there. As Fitz’s only friend, she was sure to have heard about Jemma’s failed attempts to talk to him, even if she hadn’t been present for all of them. “I just need--I’d _like_ to speak to him, that’s all.”

“Must be something really important,” Daisy deadpanned.

 _It’s only my reputation and pride on the line._ “Maybe,” she hedged, then inhaled, twisting her hands together. “So...is Fitz here tonight?”

“Yeah.” Daisy nodded. “I think he’s on the floor over in Computers. Come on, I’ll help you find him.”

Jemma gave her a grateful smile as she came out from behind the counter, then followed her toward the personal electronics section. “Can I ask a question?” When Daisy nodded, she hesitantly said, “I thought maybe you might know...why does he hate me?”

Daisy looked back at her, frowning. “You think he hates you?”

“Well...yes.” Jemma thought it was obvious. “He’s been avoiding me all week, and even before that he’s never given me the time of day, ever. I just want to know why.”

Daisy shook her head. “I don’t think he hates you. But he’s probably been avoiding you because--oh, there he is. Hey, Fitz!”

Midway down the aisle, Fitz looked up from where he was working on one of the display laptops. When he saw them, he briefly froze as his eyes went wide, before he scowled and turned back to what he was doing. Unfazed, Daisy led Jemma straight to him. “We’ve got a customer here who needs your help,” she said unnecessarily, her smile just a little too wide to be natural.

Fitz kept his eyes focused on the laptop in front of him, his jaw set. “She’s--not a customer, and she doesn’t need my help,” he muttered.

Jemma looked at Daisy, her mouth open slightly in shock. Daisy rolled her eyes. Fumbling for a response--improvisation was _not_ part of the plan--Jemma said, “But--I--I _am_ a customer. My dad, um, he sent me to pick up some--some ink for his printer!” She tried not to cringe at the way her voice had gone all squeaky. “Right, ink. It’s an emergency. He has some _very_ important documents to print out that _have_ to be in the mail tomorrow, and I thought that while I was here, I could ask you--”

Fitz braced his hands against the edge of the shelf. “Look, I’m on the clock, so I don’t have time for a chat,” he said tersely, still refusing to look at her. “If you need ink, go ask Donnie, he’s in charge of that section.”

Daisy, who had been avidly watching their exchange, bit her lip to contain another smile. “Donnie’s on break and we don’t really have very many customers in right now, so…”

Fitz finally looked up, but his eyes cut straight past Jemma to Daisy, and his expression was almost pleading. Daisy, however, simply nodded at Jemma and backed up a few steps to give them space, no longer able to hide a grin. Fitz sighed heavily, his shoulders sagging in defeat. Seeing her chance, Jemma smiled, preparing to launch into her rehearsed speech, but Fitz beat her to it.

“Is this some sort of loser outreach program?” he asked in a rush, turning to face her, but still avoiding eye contact. “Something to pad your resume or your CV with, to make you look better on your college applications--”

Jemma blinked. “What?”

“Or do you need a tutor? Because I don’t teach, I’m not a tutor.”

She could barely keep up with the barrage of words he was hurling. He’d never spoken this much to her before, ever. “Fitz--”

“Because I don’t really have time for it even if I wanted to, so, what is it? Are you somehow failing Physics and you thought ‘oh, there’s Leo Fitz, he’s a loser, he must be good at science, maybe he can help me’--”

“Fitz!”

He stopped short at her cry, loud enough to make a customer a few aisles away look over curiously. Jemma took a deep breath to calm her nerves. “Fitz,” she repeated, quieter. “I don’t need lessons. I’m ranked top of our class, which you should know, because you’ve been second to me all four years. And science is by far my best subject.”

Fitz glanced down at his feet, swallowing. “Oh.” He coughed, sounding much more subdued. “Right. Um.” Then he finally looked at her. “What do you want, then?”

Jemma was thrown for a moment, pinned in place by the startling blue of his eyes. It was the first time he’d ever fully looked at her, she thought, and she hadn’t been prepared for the intensity of his gaze. His standoffish manner wasn’t helping, either, but at least she’d been ready for that. She stood up a bit straighter. “Well, I...I wanted to talk to you about robotics.”

He crossed his arms and raised a skeptical eyebrow. “You? Want to talk about robotics?”

“Yes!” She clasped her hands together, encouraged that he wasn’t shutting her down outright. “I know you’re part of the robotics club at school, and I’ve always wanted to know more about it.” That, at least, wasn’t completely untrue. “I’m better at biology and chemistry, but I think there’s a lot about it that could go hand-in-hand with robotics. You know, like delivery mechanisms, for a start. I was wondering if you’d be willing to show me some of what you know.”

Fitz frowned. “I told you, I’m not a tutor.”

“That’s not what I’m asking!” Jemma said. “You won’t have to start with the basics, and I’ll be more than able to keep up. I promise. From one budding scientist to another, I think it could be a lot of fun. We could learn so much.” She gave him her best smile. “What do you think?”

Fitz shrugged, reaching up to rub at his neck and shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “Eh, I don’t know...maybe, sometime.”

“How about tomorrow night?”

They both turned to see Daisy, who had been doing a poor job of pretending not to eavesdrop, standing behind them and smiling widely. “The Emerging Tech expo I was going to go to with you,” she added. “You can take Jemma instead. I think she’d like it a lot better than I would.”

Jemma looked back at Fitz with interest. “Oh? What’s that? That sounds like fun.”

But Fitz was no longer looking at her; he was glaring at Daisy. “One moment please,” he muttered, then stepped past Jemma to pull Daisy away by the arm down the aisle, out of earshot, but not before she heard him hiss, “Daisy, _what the hell_?”

She tried not to listen in too much, but Jemma was just as bad at pretending as Daisy. She couldn’t make out what they were saying, though; just that they were arguing in hushed whispers, Fitz’s stance screaming anger and frustration, while Daisy stood firm and resolute. Finally, Fitz threw his hands up before stomping back over to where Jemma was standing.

“Okay, listen,” he ground out. “The expo’s at the civic center downtown. It starts at six tomorrow night. If you want to go, meet me outside the front doors at ten til. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have actual work to do.” He turned on his heel to walk away without waiting for a reply.

“Wait,” Jemma said, taking a step after him. “What about before? Would you like to--”

“No.”

She watched, nonplussed, as he rounded the corner at the end of the aisle and disappeared in the direction of the audio systems display. Then she looked at Daisy, who appeared very smug. “Is he always like this?” she asked.

“Oh yeah,” Daisy said. “At least until you get to know him. Then he’s a real softie.”

Jemma nodded, turning that information over in her mind. Fitz being anything but an uptight grouch was hard to fathom.

“So, do you really need help with ink cartridges?” Daisy asked. “Or was that a load of bullshit?”

Jemma flushed slightly. “It was--um...it was a lie.”

Daisy grinned. “I thought so.” She clapped her on the shoulder before turning to head back for the customer service desk. “Have fun tomorrow!”

-:-

Saturday evening at 5:45pm sharp found Jemma standing near the entrance to the city civic center, trying not to look too much like she was waiting for someone. Her attention was mostly on her phone, where she was keeping Bobbi updated via text, but she was also keeping an eye on the parking lot, looking for anyone who bore a resemblance to Fitz.

She’d done a little research on what she was in for when she’d gotten home the night before. The Emerging Technology Expo was being put on by a Los Angeles-based tech firm to showcase new innovations in technology that was being developed locally, by both the industry and members of the public. A panel of judges would review the entries and choose a select few to be awarded a small grant to fund further development. It wasn’t her specific area of interest, but Jemma was certain that she could find something she would enjoy there, even if Fitz was absolutely awful to her the entire time.

 _Fitz_. Jemma had already mentally prepared herself for the worst, sure he would be uncommunicative at best and hostile at worst. That is, assuming he showed up at all. She wondered why he’d given in to Daisy’s insisting if he so clearly didn’t want her to be there, but she was willing to seize the opportunity. If she could just get him in his comfort zone and talking about science, she was certain they could find some common ground, and maybe he would be willing to open up. All she had to do then was get him to talk to her enough at school that people noticed, therefore raising his social visibility, and someone would surely put him on the ballot for prom king.

She wouldn’t deny that she had personal, ulterior motives beyond the bet she’d made with Raina, though. There was still that part of her that wondered exactly what she had done to make him hate her their freshman year, when she’d just wanted to be friends. She was viewing this as her second chance, a concerted effort to succeed where she had failed four years ago.

As such, she had found herself agonizing over clothes and hair and makeup in a way that she hadn’t in years--not since she’d first gotten together with Ed. She was being silly and she knew it; she wanted to make a good impression, yes, but she wasn’t going on a _date_. It wouldn’t make a difference if she chose the red lipstick over the mulberry, curled her hair or pulled it back, or wore a sundress instead of jeans. Fitz likely wouldn’t care.

Fitz, who was now five minutes late to his own appointed meeting time. Jemma sighed as she checked the time on her phone again, feeling her spirits begin to plummet. Perhaps he wasn’t going to show after all. Perhaps she was back at square one again--

She glanced up just in time to see Fitz step up onto the curb, coming from the parking lot. He saw her at almost the same moment; their eyes met, and his steps slowed slightly. Then he lifted his chin and headed toward her with purpose.

Jemma fired off a quick text to Bobbi before slipping her phone into her pocket. _Showtime_.

“Fitz, hi,” she said once he was within hearing distance, injecting as much charm and warmth as she could into her voice.

He stopped in front of her, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans. He looked supremely awkward. “Um...yeah, hi,” he mumbled. “I didn’t think you’d come.”

Jemma tried not to be offended. “What? And miss all of this?” She gestured to the building behind them. “Absolutely not.”

Fitz squinted at her, like he was trying to size her up or gauge her sincerity. She simply blinked innocently at him. After a pause, he nodded once and gestured toward the doors. “Right. Um--let’s...let’s go in.”

He held open the door, which made her smile, and grabbed two map guides to the expo from a nearby kiosk. He handed her the extra one, then flipped his open to study the layout. “Where do you want to start?” he asked.

Jemma looked up from her own perusal of the map. “Oh, I thought I’d let you lead,” she said. “Since you’re the expert. You’ll probably do a much better job of explaining everything to me than the brochure will.”

Fitz gave her that look again--like he couldn’t quite believe she wasn’t having him on--then shrugged. “Alright, fine. I--I guess I can do that. Come on.”

For the first few exhibits, Fitz was mostly quiet. Jemma asked him a few questions, but he stuck to either yes or no replies, and didn’t really elaborate. Most of the projects on display featured some type of hands-on interactive demonstration, so she was able to amuse herself with that, depending on information cards and the guide map to provide her with more details. As she expected, she was slightly out of her depth in regards to the science of the technology being used, but she was fascinated to see each project and learn more about how they would be used, whether it was ideas for streamlining automated manufacturing processes, or prosthetics to help disabled individuals, or gadgets to make daily life easier.

At first, Jemma noticed that Fitz couldn’t seem to keep still--he was always shifting his weight from foot to foot, his fingers tapping the edges of his guide map--and it occurred to her that maybe, instead of being unhappy, he was actually nervous. She couldn’t imagine why; she was doing her best to be as open and polite and friendly as possible. She needed him to like her if she was going to win the bet, but more than that, she just wanted to put him at ease. So she made an effort to ask him more direct questions, wanting him to explain the mechanics behind everything, and how he thought some things could be expanded or improved upon.

Slowly, Fitz began to relax. Her strategy worked--he began to give more involved answers to her questions. She listened attentively and asked even more questions, and it wasn’t long before a spark lit in his eyes. He really was very knowledgeable about engineering, and the more he spoke about it, the more his enthusiasm began to show. Jemma found herself fascinated by the change. He was still soft-spoken and a bit hesitant, but otherwise he was easy to talk to, about science at least. Was this what Fitz was really like, contrary to the gruff, standoffish persona he put on at school?

By the time they made it to the last few exhibits, they were completely caught up in their own bubble, spiritedly debating the pros and cons of the types of alloys used in the last demo they’d seen. Jemma was thoroughly enjoying herself, and she suspected that Fitz was too, whether he would admit it or not.

“And that’s why I think they should use titanium,” she said, crossing her arms.

Fitz shook his head. “No, they, um...they should definitely go with vibranium. It’s stronger, and it’ll hold up better under physical stress.”

“But do those benefits justify the extra cost of materials? I’m not sure if--oh, look!”

Jemma stopped mid-sentence, her attention caught by the next prototype on display, and rushed over to it in order to get a better look. It was a large, clear acrylic enclosure, inside of which sat an open metal briefcase with a padded interior. Above it hovered two small drones, their tiny quad-copter blades whirring to keep them aloft. She took it all in with bright eyes, then turned to grin at Fitz. “Look at these!”

He watched as she looked from the drones to the tablet fixed to a pedestal in front of the enclosure. “Oh, it looks like you can control the drones with the tablet,” she said excitedly, her gaze roaming over the screen. “And--oh, they’re sending data back! The drones can scan! Let’s see what we can do.” She gave the directional controls on the tablet a few experimental taps; one of the drones dropped slightly in altitude before zooming backward. Smiling, she looked at the data readout window and tabbed over one. “One of them has video! Let me see if I can bring it closer.”

She tapped at the controls again. The second drone moved closer. She kept moving it until it hovered directly in front of them, as close to the acrylic wall as she dared. Then she pointed at the readout window. “Look! There we are.”

Their faces looked back at them, slightly grainy in the video feed. When she looked to Fitz for his reaction, Jemma found he was watching her closely; when their eyes met, he inhaled before gently elbowing her aside. “You can change the type of scan too,” he said, reaching out to tap at the screen. “See? Normal, night vision, infrared, heat.” He cycled through them one by one. “You can zoom in and out too, if you want. And all of the data--”

“Gets sent wirelessly to the tablet,” she finished, nodding. “It’s brilliant. They’re so tiny! Where’s the info card? I want to see who designed this.” Sighting a small card glued to the outside of the acrylic enclosure, she leaned forward to read the small print.

 _D.W.A.R.F.s (Drones Wirelessly Automated to Retrieve Forensics)_  
_Leo Fitz_  
 _Ventura High School_

Jemma’s mouth dropped open. “ _You_ did this?” she gasped, turning to look at Fitz with wide eyes. “These are yours?”

“Um--yeah,” he replied, frowning, and the defensive edge to his voice reminded her that he wasn’t completely comfortable with her, not yet.

He had absolutely nothing to worry about. “Fitz, that’s amazing!” she said, beaming at him. “Did you design them for the robotics club?”

Fitz shook his head. “Ah--no.” He looked a little surprised by her reaction, cautious, like he’d expected her to tear him down. “It’s, um...it’s a personal project of mine. There’s supposed to be eight of them, but--I’ve only finished four so far. I--I ran out of supplies.”

Jemma looked back at the display, this time noticing the inert drone that was still carefully packed into the padded briefcase. “Do they all have separate functions?”

“Yeah. Um, that one--Doc--” He pointed to the drone with the video camera. “He does visual scans. Happy, the other one, uses technology similar to sonar to bounce back info on things like building interiors, so you can get an idea of the layout without having to go inside.”

Jemma bit her lip. “You named them after the Seven Dwarfs from Snow White?” Fitz nodded, still looking defensive, but she only smiled wider. “I think that’s clever. It’s adorable.” When Fitz only shrugged and scratched at his ear, she asked, “Have you built a drone for Sneezy yet?”

“No,” he replied slowly.

Jemma nodded, just as slowly. “Well--see, I was thinking,” she said, “that if you haven’t assigned anything to Sneezy yet, you could build him to be something like a sniffer dog? It would be perfect for his name. Or he could detect temperature changes, search for trace chemicals, identify the composition of different objects--”

A hesitant smile had bloomed on Fitz’s face as she talked. It was so unexpected that it was enough to stop Jemma in her tracks, pleased beyond words that she’d gotten him to show even a hint of happiness.

“That’s--uh, that’s a good idea,” he said, running a finger along the edge of the tablet. “That’s actually really close to what I had in mind for Sneezy. I’ve got a plan for all eight of them, but...I kind of ran out of money.” He winced, his smile fading. “I’m hoping what I’ve got is good enough to get a grant. Then I could finish the lot of them and have something to impress my professors with when I get to uni.”

“I’d be impressed with what you’ve got right now,” Jemma replied warmly. “Would you mind telling me more about your plans? I’d love to hear them. I might even have another suggestion or two.”

Fitz raised an eyebrow at her, but it wasn’t in disbelief, the way it had been the night before. Instead, he looked thoughtful, curious even. “Uh--no, I don’t mind,” he said. “Though I guess I should start at the beginning, when I first got the idea for them. I was watching TV one day after school…”

Jemma listened as he gave her the story of how he got the inspiration for the drones, then went into detail on the process of how he’d constructed and programmed them. The more he spoke, the more she was impressed; Fitz had made miracles out of the limited supplies he had to work with. He’d used leftover parts from building computers and bought what he couldn’t get from that wholesale off Ebay, using the money he earned working at Best Buy. The tablet was refurbished, and he’d designed and coded the applications needed to show, stream, and analyze incoming data himself. He was truly a technological genius.

Much like their discussions of the other projects on display, she added thoughts and suggestions where she could, happy that he was willing to consider them rather than ignoring her like he always had before. In fact, if anything, he looked almost energized--at least, in comparison to how he usually was. She almost wished she had paper and a pen so she could take notes. They delved so deep into conversation that time flew by, and before Jemma knew it, an announcement came over the PA saying that the expo was closing for the night.

They left the exhibit hall on an adrenaline-fueled science rush, still bouncing ideas back and forth as they walked out to the parking lot. When her car was within sight, Jemma pulled out her phone to check the time.

“I know it’s late,” she said, “but would you like to go get something to eat? I think May’s Diner is still open.”

Just like that, the smile vanished from Fitz’s face, replaced by a pensive sort of frown. “Oh--uh...I...no. I can’t.”

Taken aback by his sudden mood shift, Jemma could only blink at him. “Oh.”

He swallowed and looked down, one hand going to the back of his neck. “It’s just, I’ve got work tomorrow--”

“No, no, you don’t have to explain,” she said in a rush, waving her hands at him. “I understand.” The rejection stung a little, but she was trying not to let it show. “Did you drive here, or…?”

Fitz shook his head. “No. Daisy drove me.” He seemed to deflate even more. “I don’t have my own car.”

“Do you need a ride home?”

“No, I--I already texted her.” He held up his phone. “She’s on her way.”

“Oh,” Jemma said again. This time, she couldn’t quite hide her disappointment. She’d been enjoying their conversation, and she’d hoped maybe they could extend it a bit longer. She’d thought they were doing so well, finally getting along with each other, but for some reason he was shutting down again on her. The sudden awkwardness in the air between them could have been cut with a knife.

Attempting to push past it, she smiled and said, “I had a good time tonight. Thanks for letting me come with you.” But Fitz only nodded, looking away with a strained smile of his own. Desperate to salvage things, Jemma took a step toward him. “So...I’ll see you at school on Monday?”

Fitz nodded again, still looking down. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “I’ll...I’ll see you around.” Then he turned and started heading back toward the front of the parking lot.

Dismayed and confused, Jemma called out, “Good night, Fitz!”

He raised a hand in farewell without looking back, and she barely heard his answering “g’night”. She walked the remaining distance to her car with a frown on her face, wondering how things had taken such a downturn so quickly.


	3. Chapter 3

On Monday morning Jemma walked into AP Calculus determined to regain the headway she’d lost when they left the expo. She’d spent almost the entirety of Sunday coming up with a formal list of suggested modifications and plans for Fitz’s drones, complete with cited sources and notes, and she was eager to give it to him, hoping it would break down the wall he’d put back up between them.

She spotted Fitz right away, in his usual seat at the back of the room. His head was down, focused on whatever he was writing in his notebook, and she bit back a nervous smile. However, no sooner had she started toward him than their teacher walked in, asking them to pull out their textbooks. Fitz looked up, and their eyes met; Jemma was certain she felt _something_ pass between them, but then he looked back down, and the moment was gone. She took her seat with a sigh. She had the rest of the day to give him the flash drive she’d put her proposal on. This was only her first shot.

But just like everything else so far concerning Fitz, it proved to be harder than it should have been. He was one of the first people out the door at the end of the period, even despite sitting at the back of the class, and she couldn’t find him in the hall afterward. The other classes they shared wound up being too busy for her to try again, and there weren’t any empty seats near him. She went to lunch feeling irritable and frustrated.

“So how did the expo thing go?” Bobbi asked as she set her lunch tray down across from Jemma, Hunter right behind her. “You didn’t give me all the details.”

Jemma shrugged. “I thought it was going to be a disaster, but it was actually quite fun. Once I got him to talk to me, anyway. Did I tell you he had a project of his own there on display? It was brilliant.”

“No, you didn’t.” Bobbi took a bite of her pizza, chewing thoughtfully. “If it was fun, why do you look so miserable?”

Jemma sighed. “He shut down on me again. I don’t know why! All I did was ask him if he wanted to get something to eat when we left. It’s a perfectly normal thing to ask!”

Hunter snorted softly. “Yeah, if you’re on a date.”

She gave him a scolding look, but anything she might have said was interrupted by Raina sliding into the seat next to her. “Hello ladies, Hunter,” she said, unzipping her lunch bag. “How is everyone’s Monday so far?”

“Jemma’s telling us all about her hot date with Leo Fitz,” Hunter replied, grinning at her. Bobbi smacked his arm.

“It was not a date!” Jemma squawked, but Raina smiled, raising her eyebrows.

“Wow, I’m impressed,” she said. “Making progress on your little project _and_ moving on from Ed. But really, Jemma?” She wrinkled her nose. “A date with _Fitz_?”

Jemma rolled her eyes. “It wasn’t a date,” she insisted, but she felt defensive at the same time. There was nothing wrong with Fitz besides him being an antisocial grouch. “I was just trying to get to know him better. But I don’t know what I did to upset him. I think he’s avoiding me again.”

“Well, he’s definitely not going to be prom king if you can’t get him to talk to you,” Raina said. “And the clock is ticking. You’ve got five weeks.”

Jemma waved a hand dismissively. “That’s plenty of time.” The truth was, she wasn’t thinking much about the bet; she was genuinely interested in Fitz’s progress with the drones, and she thought her proposal would be beneficial to him. It was her foot in the door. If she happened to raise his social visibility along the way and got people to consider him for prom king, well--that was just an added bonus.

-:-

When the rest of her attempts to give Fitz the flash drive failed, Jemma moved on to Plan B. As soon as the last bell of the day rang, Jemma rushed to her locker to grab the books she needed for her homework, then ran to where she thought Daisy’s locker was. Sure enough, when she rounded the corner, Daisy was there, just shutting the door and spinning the combination dial.

“Daisy!” she called out.

Daisy turned to look at her, then smiled as she approached. “Hey,” she said, “what’s up?”

“Um--I was wondering if you would do a favor for me?” Jemma pulled the flash drive from her pocket and held it out to her. “Would you mind giving this to Fitz? If you see him.”

Daisy nodded. “Sure. I’ll see him, he rides home with me. What is it?”

“It’s just some ideas I had for his drone project,” she explained. Daisy’s eyes lit up.

“Oh, so you saw the drones?” she asked, grinning. “They’re pretty cool, right?”

Jemma nodded. “I think they’re spectacular, actually,” she said. “And I’d give this to him myself, but...I think he’s avoiding me again.”

Daisy frowned. “How did the expo go, anyway? I asked him when I picked him up but he wouldn’t really say anything, just that it was ‘fine’.”

“I _thought_ it went fine,” Jemma said. “We were actually talking and it was all very interesting, until we went to leave. I asked him if he wanted to go get some food, and he just...clammed up.”

“Ohhhh.” Daisy’s expression turned knowing. “You freaked him out, I bet. He probably thought you were asking him out.”

Jemma rolled her eyes. “Why is everyone acting like it was a date?” she huffed.

Daisy laughed. “Look, I know he comes across as an asshole,” she said, “and sometimes he really is. But the truth is that he’s just shy. _Painfully_ shy. And he doesn’t trust easily. You gotta go slow with him.”

“Slow,” Jemma repeated, filing away that information for later use. “Right. Got it.” She nodded at the flash drive. “I included my phone number with my suggestions, in case he wanted to talk about it. You don’t think that’s too much, is it?”

A slow smile spread over Daisy’s face. “Ooh, slipping your number in there, sneaky. I like it.”

Jemma fought the urge to roll her eyes again. “It’s not like that.”

“Of course not.” Daisy held up the flash drive. “But yeah, I’ll give this to him and tell him to give you a call.”

“Thank you so much,” Jemma said, smiling. “I really appreciate it.”

Daisy grinned. “Not a problem. I’m sure he’ll love it.”

Confident her problem was solved--surely Fitz wouldn’t ignore Daisy--Jemma went home feeling much better.

But as the afternoon melted into evening and her phone remained silent, she began to second-guess herself again. Was Fitz really so terribly shy that he wouldn’t talk to her at all, and the expo had been a fluke? She thought appealing to his scientific mind might make things easier, but perhaps she’d been wrong. He’d seemed receptive to her ideas, but what if he’d changed his mind? What if he thought it was all rubbish?

She had to admit to herself that she was more disappointed over the potential loss of an interesting collaborative project than she was about losing Raina’s bet.

The next day at school, Jemma had to physically restrain herself from seeking Fitz out, Daisy’s words ringing in her head. _Slow. Take it slow_. The last thing she wanted to do was approach him and make him feel put on the spot, possibly ruining their relationship for good (if what they had so far could even be _called_ a relationship). She fancied she felt his eyes boring into the back of her head during the classes they had together, but it was probably just her imagination, or wishful thinking, borne from her eagerness to know what he thought of her proposal.

At the end of the day, when Fitz had still not spoken to her, Jemma decided to talk to Daisy one more time. She told herself that it would be her last shot. She didn’t consider herself a quitter, but she also felt like she recognized lost causes when she saw them, and getting Fitz to open up was beginning to look a lot like one. Losing Raina’s bet would be a definite hit to her pride, but it wasn’t worth the cost of making an ass of herself and leading Fitz to hate her even more.

She almost missed Daisy at her locker, but the other girl saw her coming and stopped, adjusting the straps of her backpack over her shoulders.

“Daisy, hi,” Jemma said, swallowing down a faint wave of anxiety. “I’m sorry to bother you again, but--you _did_ give Fitz my flash drive, right?”

Daisy frowned. “Yeah, I did, why?” Then she narrowed her eyes. “Did he not call you?”

She shook her head. “No.”

Daisy heaved a long-suffering sigh and rolled her eyes. “Oh my _god_ , he is such a _dork_.” She held out her hand. “Can I see your phone?”

“Sure,” Jemma murmured, cautiously handing it over and watching as Daisy brought up her contacts.

“He’s going to kill me for this,” Daisy said as she tapped at the screen. “But I don’t care. I’m giving you his number so you can call him yourself.”

Jemma’s eyes widened. “But--what about going slow? Wouldn’t me calling him out of the blue be a bad idea?” She shifted as a thought occurred to her. “I really _would_ be stalking him.”

“Nah,” Daisy said cheerfully as she gave her the phone back. “Desperate times call for desperate measures. I love him, but he needs to get his head out of his ass.”

“Right,” Jemma replied slowly, not sure she completely understood and too hesitant to ask. Suddenly, the reasons for Fitz hating her felt like a delicate topic of conversation. “I’ll try to give him a call tonight.” _Maybe._

“Great! And if he gets pissed off, feel free to put all the blame on me. I don’t mind getting thrown under the bus.” Daisy flashed her a grin. “Good luck!” She turned and headed off down the hall with a bounce in her step.

Jemma went home preoccupied with everything Daisy had said to her ever since she’d gone to Best Buy, wondering why she seemed so eager to help. Perhaps she was just concerned for Fitz. Everyone knew he was somewhat of a loner and that Daisy was the only person he hung out with regularly; maybe Daisy just wanted him to expand his social horizons a bit, and trusted Jemma enough to nudge him in her direction. She wouldn’t argue with it; she needed all the help she could get.

The small pang of guilt she felt, knowing her intentions weren’t entirely altruistic, was quickly brushed away. She had a busy night full of homework to attend to.

She kept her phone nearby while she studied that evening, repeatedly glancing at it in the hopes it would buzz before she had an opportunity to call herself. It did buzz, a few times, but it was never Fitz. Bobbi texted her to vent about the latest argument she was having with Hunter, and Raina wanted to solidify plans to go shopping over the weekend. As the clock ticked closer to the time she usually got ready for bed, Jemma let herself acknowledge the disappointment she felt over Fitz’s continued silence, and began to mentally psych herself up for calling him herself.

Just as she was finishing her Physics homework, her phone buzzed again.

Sighing, she picked it up and swiped her thumb to unlock the screen, fully prepared to tell Bobbi that no, she was not blowing things out of proportion in regards to Hunter--but her breath caught when she saw who the sender was.

_[Fitz] is this really Jemma Simmons?_

She stared at the text for a moment, slightly flummoxed. Of _course_ it was her.

_[Jemma] yes, it is._

His reply was quick in coming.

_[Fitz] how do I know this isn’t just some random number?_

Her eyebrows raised. Daisy was right--he really _didn’t_ trust easily. Did he truly believe she would give out a fake number? Slightly offended, she started to tap out a reassurance, but stopped. If he was going to be annoyingly cagey, she was going to fight back.

_[Jemma] how do I know this is really Fitz and not Daisy?_

When he didn’t immediately reply again, Jemma frowned. Had she made a miscalculation? She had always gotten along effortlessly with other people, but she felt as though she had to tiptoe around Fitz. Strangely enough, she didn’t mind the unpredictability; she actually found it really interesting, when she wasn’t just plain frustrated, like he was a puzzle she was determined to crack.

After a few more minutes of silence, Jemma decided that the ball was still in her court, and there was really only one way for her to prove it really was her. Sitting up straighter, she switched over to the camera app on her phone and schooled her face into something a little exasperated--but not _too_ much, so he wouldn’t think she was genuinely angry with him. Then she snapped a selfie and texted it to him. Her phone buzzed again barely a moment later.

_[Fitz] right_   
_[Fitz] it’s you_   
_[Fitz] sorry I didn’t believe you_

After a short pause, almost like it was an afterthought, a photo attachment popped up in her message app. It was a photo of Fitz’s face in extreme closeup, slightly off-center; he was wincing, almost comically so, as if he were apologizing for being so skeptical. Jemma couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up out of her chest, her eyes lingering on the way his nose scrunched up, and she was smiling as she went to type a reply.

_[Jemma] glad we’ve got that sorted!  
[Jemma] have you had a chance to look at the flash drive I sent you? _

_[Fitz] yeah I have_   
_[Fitz] your ideas are brilliant_   
_[Fitz] I think they’d be a great addition to what I’ve already done_

Jemma’s smile widened as she mimed a silent cheer, her fingers flying over the screen of her phone.

_[Jemma] did I explain everything well? I know I can get a bit wordy sometimes_   
_[Jemma] not that I think you wouldn’t understand_   
_[Jemma] I’m just offering to help in case you need it_

She cringed slightly, hoping Fitz wouldn’t take her offer as an insult to his intelligence.

_[Fitz] no, it’s fine_

She blew out a sigh of relief.

_[Fitz] I understand the basic concepts but I’d have to do research to fully understand  
[Fitz] so basically what you said to me the other night, just in reverse _

She smiled. She didn’t know why she took it as a victory that he was referencing earlier conversations, but she did. Maybe it was because he was acknowledging that she existed and that they had done something together. She took a moment to consider her response.

_[Jemma] I’d love to help if you need it_

A minute passed, and Fitz didn’t respond. Once again, Jemma hoped that she hadn’t pushed her luck and overstepped her boundaries. She could almost imagine Fitz frowning at his phone in a fit of grumpiness; then, building on that, she had a sudden mental image of Daisy sitting next to him, shoving at his shoulder and saying “Do it, do it!”

She shook her head to clear her thoughts. Daisy’s role in their budding friendship was a bit mysterious, and Jemma didn’t doubt that Daisy had done some prodding on her end, but it was unlikely she was with Fitz now.

Finally, Fitz replied, and if unsurety could be conveyed through simple text on a screen, he managed it.

_[Fitz] that would be great_

Jemma’s smile widened again.

_[Jemma] excellent! when do you want to get started?_

_[Fitz] not tomorrow  
[Fitz] I have to work _

_[Jemma] how about Thursday after school?_

Again, it took Fitz a moment to respond, and again, Jemma imagined Daisy egging him on.

_[Fitz] that’s fine, yeah_

Sensing she had maxed out his socializing quota for the evening, she decided to send one last text.

_[Jemma] great. we can talk more at school tomorrow_

Fitz never replied, but she didn’t mind. She’d scored a victory--now she had an exciting new project to look forward to, _and_ she’d finally made inroads with Fitz. She’d killed two birds with one stone, and she went to bed that night feeling much more optimistic about things.

She wasn’t in the clear yet in regards to the bet, but she was certainly making progress.

-:-

When she walked into AP Calculus the next morning, Jemma was gratified to see that Fitz’s head was up instead of buried in his notebook, and that rather than looking away or scowling, he gave her a half-smile in greeting. She returned it before taking her usual seat at the front of the class. She’d thought about sitting next to him again, but once more, Daisy’s reminder to take things slow rang in her mind. Jemma hadn’t suddenly become best friends with Fitz overnight; there was no need to deviate too far from her normal way of doing things.

But that didn’t mean there wasn’t room for slight adjustments here and there. The next day at lunch, she chose to sit with Fitz and Daisy instead of her usual group of friends. She approached them with her chin held high and no hesitation in her step. If people were watching (and they might be), she needed to look confident in her choice of lunchtime companions.

She walked right up to Fitz and lightly cleared her throat. “Hi Fitz...do you mind if I sit here?” She gestured to the seat next to him.

Fitz glanced up from his pizza and shrugged as he chewed a bite. “Go ahead,” he said after he swallowed. Jemma sank into the seat with a smile, ignoring Daisy’s wide-eyed look of glee.

“Are we still on for tonight?” she asked. Across the table, Daisy’s eyebrows went up into her hairline.

“Hmm? Oh yeah, yes,” he replied, reaching up to scratch at his temple. “I mean--if you still want to.”

Jemma started unpacking her lunch. “I do! Of course I do.” She shot him another smile. “I’ve been looking forward to it since Tuesday.”

“What are you guys up to?” Daisy asked, no longer able to contain her curiosity.

“She’s, um--we’re going to work on the D.W.A.R.F.s together,” Fitz said, his focus still on his food. “She’s going to help me with the biochemical side of things.”

Daisy’s smile widened. “Really? That’s awesome! Why didn’t you tell me? What else are you holding back on?”

Jemma paused in the midst of taking the lid off of her salad. “You didn’t tell her?”

Fitz rolled his eyes. “You don’t have to know _every_ single thing about my life, Daisy,” he muttered, but there was no real malice behind it.

“Sure I do.”  Daisy took a swig of her Coke. “Seriously, though, I’m glad you guys are working together. You’ll have to keep me updated. I still think you need to make one that has, like, little arms or something, that could pick stuff up or plug into a USB port or--”

Fitz rolled his eyes again. “Christ. Daisy, _no_. I am not making you a hacker drone--”

“Why not? What better way to perform corporate espionage and stick it to the man than with a super cool little drone?”

“ _Because_ \--”

Jemma watched their back-and-forth continue with a smile, amused and more than a little heartened by the glimpse into what Fitz was really like. He was still dry, still a bit grumpy, but much more at ease and with an actual sense of humor. After another round of begging from Daisy, he shifted in his seat to look aside at her.

“She thinks she’s a virtual Robin Hood,” he explained, a small grin ticking up the corners of his mouth.

“I _am_ a virtual Robin Hood,” Daisy countered. “Paywalls and software encryption don’t stand a chance against me.”

Jemma laughed. “So is that what you do for fun?”

Fitz groaned. “Don’t get her started.”

“No, do,” Daisy said, grinning. “Here, let me tell you a little bit about what I do.”

So it went for the rest of lunch. Jemma listened as Daisy told her all about her virtual exploits, while Fitz provided a running commentary that was heavy on sarcasm. They were obviously good friends and very comfortable with each other. It was nice, Jemma thought, to see Fitz much more relaxed and friendly. She wondered how long it would take for him to be that way with her.

At one point, she snuck a glance toward her usual table, where Bobbi, Hunter, Raina, and Callie were sitting. They were all talking and laughing like they usually did, and she felt a slight pang of regret at deserting them for the day, but it was for a good reason. Bobbi, who was sitting facing her, caught her eye and smiled, nodding slightly as if to say she was doing a good job, that Fitz was sitting next to her talking and comfortable, so her persistence had paid off.

When the bell rang, signaling the end of the period, Jemma turned to Fitz. “Oh! I forgot to ask. Do you want me to give you a ride home today? I just--I thought it would be easier, is all, since we’re going to work on the drones.” She looked over at Daisy. “Unless you or Daisy mind?”

Daisy shrugged, signalling it was fine with her, so Jemma looked back at Fitz. His forehead was wrinkled slightly, like he was deep in thought, or perhaps hesitant to accept, but in the end he shrugged, too. “Sure,” he said as he piled his trash together on top of his tray. “If you want to. That would, um...yeah, that would actually work out great. So.” He gave her a bracing smile.

Jemma felt her heart unexpectedly flutter. Even though it wasn’t full and bright, the smile still transformed his face, and she was happy to see it, to have been the cause of it. He had a nice smile; it was a shame he didn’t do it more often.

“Great!” she said, and as one they both turned to head for the trash disposal, Daisy following behind them. “I can meet you out front by the benches at the end of the day, how’s that sound?”

“Fine by me.” Fitz dumped his trash and set his tray on the cleaning rack. “Are you ready for our Physics test?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Jemma replied. “What about you?”

He huffed a short laugh. “I could ace it in my sleep.”

“Nerds,” Daisy said, pushing past them to go ahead out of the cafeteria doors.

At the end of the day, Fitz met her outside like they planned. He didn’t talk much, beyond asking about their Physics test again and giving her directions to his house, but she didn’t mind. There was a marked difference in the level of awkwardness she could feel coming from him, much better than it had been over the weekend. It gave her hope for their new partnership: if they were going to work together, they didn’t need to be tip-toeing around one another.

Fitz didn’t live very far from school. Jemma brought her car to a stop outside a small, modest ranch house with a well-kept lawn. No one else was there; Fitz explained that his mother owned a house-cleaning app startup--”it’s kind of like Uber, but for cleaning houses”--and therefore sometimes kept irregular, odd hours. He lead her through the living room (also neat and well-kept, which was fitting, she supposed) to a staircase that led down into the basement. Unlike what she had seen of the rest of the house, the basement could only be described as organized chaos. Plastic bins full of tools and spare parts, along with blueprints and sheets with designs scribbled on them, littered almost every surface. A workshop bench took up most of one wall, and an old, battered sofa was shoved into the opposite corner.

“Sorry about the mess,” Fitz said somewhat sheepishly, standing in the midst of it. “I’m the only one who really comes down here, and my mum says she doesn’t mind how it looks, as long as I keep it all contained to the basement. It’s--it’s like my own space.”

“I wish I had room for a little lab of my own,” Jemma replied, laughing softly. “What does your dad think of it?”

Fitz’s hands stilled where he’d turned to sort through some things on his bench. “Um, he’s...he’s not around.”

Her laughter immediately turned sour in her gut. “Oh,” she choked. “I’m sorry.”

He shrugged, his back still turned. “Don’t be,” he muttered, reaching across the bench for a closed laptop. “It is what it is.”

 _Still_ , she wanted to say, her heart going out to him, but she could tell from the sudden stiffness to his shoulders that it wasn’t a topic he wanted to discuss further. She cast about for a moment, unsure what to say, before she settled on the safe familiarity of science. “Do you have any notes on what you’ve planned for the other drones?” she asked, taking a step toward him. “We could start by comparing them to mine, and hopefully find a good place to begin.”

Fitz let out a breath, visibly relaxing, and he turned back to her, holding the laptop. “Yeah, that’s fine--I’ve got them on this laptop. Here, hold it for a moment--” He handed the laptop over to her. “And I’ll get some space cleared so we can, ah, yeah--so we can go over it together.”

Jemma clutched the laptop to her chest while Fitz went about moving bits of paper and tools from the sofa so they could both sit down. Then he took the laptop from her and settled it in his lap, flipping it open and bringing up his original notes on the drones.

And thus, a pattern began. Over the next two weeks, every day that Fitz didn’t have to work, Jemma came over to his house to help him with the drones. She asked if it was okay at first, but it quickly became an assumed deal. He showed her the programs he’d devised to collect and calculate incoming data, showed her how to input variables and rules, and had her start adding parameters for various types of organic and chemical compounds. He spent most of his time fine-tuning the drone he had that wasn’t on display at the expo, rambling aloud about all the different ideas he had for the drones he’d yet to build. Jemma found that when it came to science, at least, Fitz was very easy to talk to, and he seemed to genuinely appreciate her input while still being willing to debate her on issues they disagreed over. It was nice, for a change, to have someone who didn’t automatically accept everything she said and did at face value the way Ed had, and she found herself increasingly looking forward to the afternoons and evenings she spent with Fitz.

Sometimes they didn’t even work on the drones; instead, they worked on their homework for school or debated various news items they’d read online during the day. Once, they even stayed in the living room and watched a documentary on the Amazon rainforest.

She didn’t meet his mother until several days into their new routine. She was busy typing away at the laptop while Fitz was on his stool, hunched over the workbench, when they heard the sounds of someone entering the house upstairs. Jemma looked up, but Fitz kept his focus on his work. A moment later, the door to the basement stairs opened and a pleasant, feminine voice drifted down.

“Daisy, love, did you get a new car? It looks very nice, quite posh.”

Jemma opened her mouth to speak but hesitated, unsure of how Fitz wanted to address his mother’s error. He sat back, pushing his magnifying goggles up onto his head. “Ah--it’s not Daisy,” he called out, shooting her a glance over his shoulder. “It’s--um--it’s my friend Jemma. We’re working on the D.W.A.R.F.s, remember?”

Jemma felt her heart warm-- _my friend_ \--as she heard a squawk of surprise, followed by footsteps on the stairs. A second later, Fitz’s mother came into view: a short, trim woman with greying blonde hair, wearing a sharp business suit. Her face lit up when she saw her sitting on the sofa.

“So you’re the Jemma I’ve been hearing so much about. It’s good to finally meet you,” she said, smiling widely. Across the room, Fitz rolled his eyes and mumbled something under his breath before turning back to the drone he was tinkering with.

“Likewise,” Jemma said, smiling back. “Fitz has told me all about you starting your own business; it must be very exciting.”

“Oh, and you’re a fellow Brit, too!” Mrs. Fitz exclaimed. “How lovely. Yes, it’s exciting--and stressful, but exciting all the same. Leo gives me too much credit.” She looked over at her son. “I won’t keep you, as I’m sure you’re very busy, but I just wanted to let you know I was home and see if you needed anything.”

“I’m fine, thank you,” Jemma replied, just as Fitz said, “I’m good, Mum, thanks.”

Mrs. Fitz smiled again. “Let me know if you do,” she said, and turned to go back up the stairs. “I’m going to go get dinner started.”

At school, Jemma started sitting next to Fitz both in class and at lunch. She simply had too many ideas and things to talk about spilling over in her mind, and she couldn’t get them all out in the evenings. Fortunately, Daisy didn’t seem to mind Jemma’s monopoly on Fitz’s time; she simply sat and watched them talk over each other with a smile on her face. She even joined them one night, huddling in the corner of the sofa with her own laptop, typing away on a project of her own while Fitz and Jemma bickered over the best sensor to use for Sneezy.

At the end of the second week, Jemma was headed to her car after school let out when she heard Fitz’s voice calling her name. She turned, surprised--she’d never heard him raise his voice for anything--to see him jogging to catch up with her, chest heaving and eyes bright.

“Jemma!” he gasped, coming to a stop right in front of her. “Guess what--you won’t believe this--”

Jemma smiled, happy to see him and charmed by the fact that he’d actually sought her out on his own. “What is it?”

“I just got an email--” He waved his phone at her. “From the expo, they picked the D.W.A.R.F.s for grant funding. Now I’ll have enough money to finish the whole set!”

Jemma’s jaw dropped. “Oh, Fitz, that’s _amazing_! I’m so happy for you!” She only just stopped herself from hugging him in joy--Fitz wasn’t very tactile. Instead, she clapped her hands together, hopping excitedly. “You must be thrilled.”

“Christ.” Fitz was grinning widely, his entire face alight. She’d never seen him so happy. “I don’t even know where to start. I’ve got to go downtown to meet with the council and get the paperwork signed, but, yeah. This is happening.” He rocked back on his heels. “I need to get that done before I have to be at work, but--I, uh--I wanted you to be the first to know.”

His smile softened, and Jemma felt her heart melt, just a little. She felt like she’d been entrusted with something important. “Thanks,” she said, beaming. “We’re still on for tomorrow, right?”

Fitz nodded. “Yeah, yeah, of course. Text me before you come over?” Jemma nodded too, and he turned to head back for the benches in front of the school. “See you tomorrow, Jemma.”

Smiling, Jemma started walking toward her car again. Just as she reached it, she heard a different voice calling her name, and turned to see Raina and Callie approaching.

“Hey stranger,” Raina said. “Long time, no see.”

Jemma winced, feeling guilty. She’d been so focused on Fitz and the drones she’d forgotten to make time for the rest of her friends. “Sorry,” she said as she opened the door of her car and bent to put her backpack in the front passenger seat. “I know, I’ve been a terrible friend. I’ll do better.”

Raina shrugged lightly. “No harm done, sister. I know you’ve been busy with your little project, but it looks like it’s going well for you.”

“Oh?” Jemma raised her eyebrows. “You know about the drones? Did Bobbi tell you?”

Raina made a face, confused. “What? Drones? No, I’m talking about our bet.”

Jemma stared, her stomach dropping down through the ground. In all of the excitement and the joy of discovery, she’d completely forgotten about the bet--about why she’d really spoken to Fitz in the first place. “Oh,” she said again, trying to maintain her composure. “Right, yes, the...bet. It’s going fine, actually, it’s really...really good. Smashing, even.”

If Raina and Callie noticed her sudden disquiet, they didn’t act like it. “Well, it’s great that you’ve got him to act like a regular human being around _you_ , but you’ve still got the rest of the school to convince,” Raina said airily. “At this rate, he won’t even get on the ballot.”

“Yeah,” Callie added. “To the rest of us, he’s still a loser.”

Jemma bristled slightly, but didn’t say anything--and immediately felt shame for it. Fitz wasn’t a loser, not in the slightest, but she didn’t want to start an argument. So she let it slide and told herself she’d make up for it later.

“He’ll be on the ballot,” she said, with more confidence than she felt. “Trust me.”

“If you say so,” Raina smirked, turning to leave. “Text me later, we need to make plans for Trip’s party tomorrow.”

“Bye,” Callie said, following her.

Jemma watched them go for a moment before getting in her car with a frown. How could she have forgotten about the bet? And, perhaps more importantly, how much did it even matter to her now?


	4. Chapter 4

On Saturday morning, Jemma woke up early and packed a bag before getting in her car to drive across town to Fitz’s house. She didn’t text him like she’d promised; she doubted he was even awake yet, but mostly, she wanted to surprise him. She was still feeling ill at ease over Raina’s reminder about their bet, and she wanted to prove to herself that she truly was Fitz’s friend now, not just using him as a means to an end. Friends did nice things for each other, didn’t they? They had put in a lot of work on the drones, but now--especially since Fitz had won a grant--he deserved a break, a chance to relax and have fun. And that was exactly what she planned to offer.

Mrs. Fitz looked surprised to see her when she opened the door, but greeted her just as warmly as ever. “I’m not even sure if Leo is awake yet, it _is_ a bit early for him on a weekend…” She turned to look behind her just as Fitz appeared in the entryway, looking sleepy and rumpled in a tee and monkey-patterned pajama pants that Jemma found rather adorable. He stopped when he saw her, his eyebrows drawing together in confusion even as his cheeks flushed pink.

“Jemma?” he croaked, one hand raised at the back of his head. “Wha--what are you doing here so early?”

“We have a change of plans,” she said brightly, not bothering to hide her smile at his appearance.

Fitz hesitated, looking from her to his mother for a moment before coming forward to take the door. His mother retreated back into the depths of the house, leaving Fitz to blink into the morning sunlight. “What, um--what do you mean, change of plans?” he asked warily. His eyes drifted to her shoulders, where the straps of her bikini were plainly visible next to those of her sundress.

“We’re going to the beach.”

Fitz reared back slightly. “What? I--no, I--I can’t go to the beach. Jemma, I’m barely awake.”

“So?” Jemma tilted her head. “I’m willing to wait while you get ready.”

He gaped at her, looking lost. “I--um--I mean--well, look at me.” He threw his hands out, palms up, exposing his forearms. “I’m pale as a bloody ghost, I’ll get burned.”

“That’s what sunscreen is for! I’ve got plenty, enough for both of us.” She gestured to her own arms, just as pale as his. “I’ll need it too, obviously.”

“Jemma--” He huffed, pressing the heel of his hand to his forehead before giving her a plaintive look. “What about the D.W.A.R.F.s?”  
  
She laughed. “They can wait! Fitz, you just won a grant. You deserve a day off as a reward to yourself, to celebrate. Come on, it’ll be fun!” She gave him her most winsome smile. “You don’t have to go in the water, and we can even get tacos at the pier if you want. My treat.”

Fitz’s expression perked up slightly at the mention of food, but then his mother appeared behind him again. “She’s right, you know,” she said. “You should get out. You spend so much time down in the basement. I worry about you.”

“Mum,” he groaned, looking embarrassed, “ _please_.” But he turned back to Jemma with a resigned sigh. “Give me a few minutes to get some stuff together.” He stood back and opened the door wider to let her come inside, which she did with an excited hop. Then she waited in the living room while he went to his room to get changed. When he came back downstairs, he was wearing swim trunks and a fresh t-shirt, and had obviously run a comb through his curls.

“We’ll be back later, Mum,” he called out, then turned to Jemma. “Right, this is your show, so...lead the way.”

She grinned and grabbed him by the wrist to pull him toward the door.

They drove through town with the top of Jemma’s car down. It was a beautiful day, sunny with puffy white clouds in the sky, the air warm without being oppressively hot. When they got to the beach, they spent a few minutes rubbing sunscreen into their arms, necks, and faces, before slipping their flip flops into Jemma’s bag and setting out across the sand.

For a while they simply walked along the shore, talking about everything and nothing, occasionally wading into the water up to their shins and shrieking when surprise waves crashed against their knees. Then they would retreat back to the water line and hunt for seashells, still talking about anything they could think of. Jemma was delighted to learn that Fitz had been accepted to Stanford and was planning on attending in the fall, the same as she was; she admitted that it would be nice, knowing there would be a familiar face on campus, even if they were in separate departments. Fitz agreed. And when when he laughed at one of her jokes, she couldn’t help but lean in and gently nudge him repeatedly with her elbow. “See, see?” she said triumphantly. “You’re laughing, you’re having fun. I told you, you would.”

Fitz looked down, his smile turning a touch bashful. “Yeah, I am,” he murmured.

“I’m glad.” Jemma nudged him again. “It’s nice to see you smile. You really should consider getting out and having fun a bit more, you know, instead of always being so serious. It’ll be good for you. You don’t want to wake up one day and realize your whole life has passed you by while you were busy being a grump.”

A shadow fell over his face, and his smile slipped into a frown. “Easy for _you_ to say, people like you,” he said. “Besides Daisy, and--and now you, everyone at school treats me like shit.”

Jemma bit her lip as she considered how she wanted to respond, how much of a risk she wanted to take with her reply. In the end, she forged ahead. “Do you ever wonder if there’s a reason why?” she asked carefully. When Fitz’s frown deepened, she added, “Because I seem to remember trying to talk to you on the first day of ninth grade and, well, _you_ treated _me_ like shit.”

Fitz blanched. “Jemma Simmons, _language_.”

She laughed softly and bumped her shoulder into his. “Don’t dodge the question.”

He shook his head, his shoulders drawing up as he looked away. “I--I don’t know, that was a long time ago. I don’t really remember…”

“I don’t believe that.” Jemma skipped ahead to turn and face him, stopping and folding her arms. “Because you kept treating me horribly, ever since, and you only talked to me that first time because Daisy made you. Honestly, Fitz, I’ve spent almost four years wondering what I did to make you hate me. So what was it?”

Fitz was watching her, his mouth hanging slightly open. After a moment, he took a deep breath and looked away again, squinting into the sun. “It wasn’t anything you did,” he said, so quietly that his words were almost lost in the roar of the surf.

She leaned forward. “What?”

He rolled his eyes, but she could tell he was more annoyed with himself, rather than her. “Remember how we had US History first thing in the morning?” he asked. She nodded. “Well--you answered all of Mrs. Weaver’s questions. You were so smart. You were brilliant. So--when you sat next to me in Biology later and said hello, I--I just froze. I wanted to impress you, but I didn’t want to mess up and make you think I was stupid. So...I didn’t say anything at all.”

Jemma stared at him. “But that doesn’t explain everything else,” she said. “Why you _kept_ ignoring me. You answer questions in class just as much as I do and it’s obvious how intelligent you are.”

Fitz shrugged lamely. “I saw who all of your friends were. I figured you wouldn’t want anything to do with me.”

She found herself torn between several emotions at once--exasperation, because he was being ridiculous; anger, because did he really think so little of her? And finally sadness, because he obviously thought so little of himself. Her heart hurt at the level of miscommunication that had existed between them. “Fitz,” she said, taking a step toward him, “you were so worried that I would judge you, but--that’s exactly what you did to me. You judged me based on my friends.”

He glanced up at her and smiled tightly. “Yeah...yeah, I guess you’re right. Sorry.”

Jemma reached out and poked him in the chest, trying to bring a little levity back into the conversation. “We could have been friends _years_ ago, silly.”

Fitz’s eyebrows went up. “Oh, I don’t know about that.” He moved past her to start walking again. “You had Milton.”

She turned to follow him with a frown. “His name is Ed.”

“No, I’m pretty sure it’s Milton.” He kicked at the water that washed up around their ankles. “Milton Edward Huntington the Third.”

This time, she narrowed her eyes. “Yes, but he prefers to go by Ed,” she said disapprovingly.

“Yeah, and I prefer to go by Fitz, but that doesn’t stop him from calling me Leopold every chance he gets. I’m just giving him the same respect he shows me,” Fitz groused. “I don’t get what people see in him, anyway. I’ve always thought he was a total bastard.”

Jemma was torn between defending her former boyfriend, who had always been good to her (up until he wasn’t) and indulging herself in a little bit of ex-bashing. “He’s really not so bad, once you get to know him,” she said, but there wasn’t a lot of feeling behind it. Instead, her irritation over being dumped resurfaced. “I just--I can’t believe he broke up with me because I was _too smart_ ,” she complained. “Or too talkative, or too right all the time, or--or any of the other nonsense he said. He acted like I was such a burden, like he had to put up with me for three years.” She looked aside at Fitz, who was watching her with a strange look on his face, and sighed. “I’m sorry. You don’t want to hear all of that.”

“No, no, it’s just--” Fitz shook his head and laughed. “He’s mad. I’d _love_ to have a girlfriend as smart as or smarter than me. Can you imagine it? We’d never run out of things to talk about. I’d always be learning something new.”

“Right,” Jemma agreed, nodding. “Never a dull moment.”

“Exactly. And I’d never have to worry about making them look bad.”

“That, too.” She sighed again. “Obviously, that was a misstep where Ed was concerned.”

“Such a fragile ego,” Fitz said mock-sagely, and Jemma couldn’t help but laugh. Then he turned to study her as they walked. “Can I ask a question?” When she nodded, he said, “Why--why did you go out with him, anyway? I mean...you just seem really different to me, popularity aside.”

She took a moment to seriously consider his question, thinking back to the girl she’d been at fifteen, young and naive and tremendously flattered that good-looking, popular Ed Huntington was taking notice of her. “I suppose...well, he was handsome,” she started slowly. When Fitz scoffed, she rushed to say, “But that wasn’t everything! I promise! He had a bit of intelligence to him, too, and he was kind to me, and fun, and our parents are friends, so...it was an easy choice. He was the one who pursued me, really. And I thought maybe I could help him realize his full potential.” She frowned, wrinkling her nose as a thought occurred to her. “That’s a bit awful of me, isn’t it?” she asked, looking back at Fitz. “Taking him on like a project, like a charity case I could fix.”

Just like she was doing to him, with Raina’s bet. Her breath stalled as her stomach churned, and suddenly Fitz’s answer meant everything, without him knowing it: he could absolve her of her mounting guilt.

 _But he’s not a charity case, I’m not working with him out of pity, he’s my friend, I_ like _him_ \--

Unaware of her inner turmoil, Fitz made a face. “No, I don’t think so,” he said, and she let out a silent breath of relief. “You just wanted him to be the best that he could be, yeah?”

“Yeah,” she echoed. “I think...I think, if I had to start over again, I’d be more choosy. Maybe. Anyone I dated definitely couldn’t be intimidated by my intelligence, for a start.” She looked down at her feet, watching the sand squish between her toes as the water lapped at them. “And they wouldn’t automatically agree with everything I say, just because they think that’s what I want to hear. A little debate is good for the soul.”

“Absolutely,” Fitz said.

“And they would have to be willing to accept that I can be a little single-minded sometimes, especially when I get started on a new project,” she added.

Fitz huffed. “I can understand that. I’m the same way.” Then, a bit shyly, he reached out to elbow her, much the same way she had done to him earlier. “You’re too good for him. You deserve better.”

Jemma smiled, feeling a soft warmth spread through her chest. “Yeah?”

He smiled back. “Yeah.”

And as she looked at him, smiling and windswept and bright-eyed in the sunlight, she realized all the things she’d wished for could be found right there within him. Fitz matched her in intelligence and wits, he wasn’t intimidated by her--not anymore--he didn’t mind arguing with her if he thought something was worth debating, and he really did have a kind heart. His prickly exterior was just that--a front put up to hide shyness and a low self esteem. He loved his mother and Daisy and treated them both with respect, and he had a good sense of humor. Even in the short time they’d been working together, Jemma could already tell he was everything she wanted.

The words she’d thought to herself mere moments ago came back to her.

 _He’s my friend, I like him_ \--

 _I like him_ \--

 _I_ like _him_ \--

Oh, no.

Before the implications of what that meant could fully sink in, a shout rang out across the sand.

“Yo, Jemma! Hey, what’s up?!”

Jemma tore her eyes away from Fitz to look toward the bluff up above the beach, where Raina, Bobbi, and the rest of her crew were spilling out of their cars, carrying an assortment of beach bags and equipment. Raina was waving excitedly, gesturing for her to come join them.

Next to her, she could practically feel Fitz’s walls going back up, the smile sliding off his face as his posture went stiff and rigid. It made her chest ache; she didn’t want him to be so self-conscious and defensive around her friends, but she knew it would take some time for him to feel comfortable with them. She looked at him, resisting the urge to reach out and take his hand. “Since we’re friends, we’re going to have to deal with them eventually, right?” she said quietly, trying to be reassuring. When Fitz didn’t reply--just shrugged, looking at his feet--she motioned for him to follow her. “Come on.”

They walked toward the beach’s edge, where a path led up the rocky hillside to the parking lot. Raina, Trip, and Bobbi met them at the bottom, loaded down with beach towels, chairs, bags, and coolers: all the trappings of an afternoon beach party. Several more people trailed them down the hill.

“Hey!” Raina said as she went past them to go claim a stretch of open beach. “We tried texting you to see if you wanted to come with us, but we couldn’t get in touch. Funny running into you here!”

“Sorry,” Jemma said, following her and setting her bag down next to Raina’s. She watched as Raina took a folding chair from Bobbi and started getting it set up. “We have both our phones in my bag so they won’t get wet.”

“Ah, I see. Or maybe it’s not so funny.” Raina shot her a devilish smirk before looking past her to Fitz, who was standing uncertainly just beyond her shoulder. “This is Jemma’s spot, you know,” she said. “She and Ed used to come out here all the time, they made it very romantic. Seriously, the _things_ that have happened on this beach…”

“Raina!” Bobbi hissed, swatting her shoulder as she got her own chair unfolded.

Fitz turned to look at her, face unreadable, but Jemma was already ducking her head, feeling her cheeks burn. She didn’t know what Raina was playing at--sure, she and Ed had gone to the beach together countless times, and sometimes it had been romantic, but it hadn’t been like what Raina seemed to be implying. In light of her newly-realized crush, it was the worst possible thing for her friend to say.

Luckily, before Raina could make thing worse, Trip appeared with Hunter in tow, tossing a volleyball back and forth between his hands. “Hey, glad to see you’ll be joining us today,” he said, nodding at Fitz. “I’m Trip, and this here is Hunter. But don’t listen to anything he says, he never evolved past a fifth grade reading level.”

“Oi!” Hunter protested, shoving Trip’s shoulder, who laughed. “Bloody rude, is what you are.”

Fitz gave them a tight smile. “I know who you are.”

“Great! Now that we’ve got introductions out of the way…” Raina straightened from where she’d gotten her chair situated, and reached out to grab Jemma’s hand. “Come with me to get the rest of the stuff from the car, okay?”

Jemma had just enough time to shoot Fitz an apologetic glance--his eyes had flown to hers, looking near to panicking--before Raina pulled her away toward the parking lot, chattering about everything she’d missed socially over the past two weeks, leaving him alone with the rest of her friends.

“--Seriously, Jemma, I’m so glad we ran into you, it feels like it’s been ages!” Raina was saying as they went up the hill. “We barely see you anymore. You’ve been spending so much time with _him_.”

Once again, Jemma felt a pang of guilt. “I know, I know, I’m sorry,” she said. “You know how focused I can get when I have a new project.”

“Yeah, I do, you nerd,” Raina laughed, but it didn’t have quite the same amount of affection as it did when, say, Daisy called Fitz the same thing. She opened the trunk of her car and pulled out another bag and a mini cooler, handing them off to Jemma.

Back down on the beach, Callie, who was gettled settled in her own chair, eyed Fitz, who was watching Trip and Hunter wrangle with the coolers. “Do you think the mourning period’s over?” she asked Bobbi.

Bobbi laughed. “You mean Jemma? I don’t even think there _was_ a mourning period. She’s fine.”

Fitz, who had overheard their exchange, swallowed uneasily. “Mourning period?”

Bobbi looked up at him, raising a hand to shield her eyes from the sun’s glare. “Yeah, you know...since Ed broke up with her, Jemma’s single.”

“Yeah, so, what’s the deal with you two?” Callie shifted in her seat to look up at Fitz, too. “Don’t tell me you guys are on a date.”

“No.” Fitz shook his head vehemently, perhaps a bit too much. “No, we’re not, we’re, ah--”

“Just friends?” Bobbi supplied, smiling.

Fitz exhaled. “Yeah.”

Satisfied with the coolers, Trip approached them again, volleyball back in hand. “Is this what you ladies plan on doing all day?” he asked with a grin, indicating Bobbi and Callie, stretched out in their chairs.

“No,” Callie replied serenely, slipping on a pair of sunglasses. “In fifteen minutes, I have every intention of turning over.”

Trip nodded. “Alright. Just thought I’d ask if you wanted to play.” He spun the volleyball around his fingers.

“No thanks.” Bobbi smiled before looking back at the book she had open in her lap.

Trip turned to Fitz, who still looked awkward, unsure, and more than a little out of place. “What about you, Fitz? You up for some volleyball?”

Fitz hesitated, glancing between Trip and the volleyball, but Callie spoke up before he could answer.  “Um, no,” she said firmly, shaking her head. “I don’t think so.”

Both Trip and Fitz looked down at her in surprise, Fitz’s mouth dropping open slightly. Trip raised his eyebrows. “Is your name Fitz?” he asked.

“No, thank god,” she muttered. Then she gave Fitz a falsely sweet smile. “No offense.”

Fitz didn’t bother with pretending to smile back. “None taken.”

“It’s just,” Callie continued blithely, waving a hand, “I’ve seen you in gym class. You run like a girl.”

Fitz blinked, his eyebrows going up just the same as Trip’s: unimpressed. “And?”

Bobbi snorted, which she immediately tried to stifle behind one hand.

Thrown by Fitz’s lack of offense and unwillingness to argue with her, Callie waffled. “Well--I--I mean--”

Trip turned back to Fitz. “So, are you in or out?”

Fitz narrowed his eyes, giving first Callie and then Trip a considering look, before lifting his chin slightly. “I’m in.”

A wide smile broke over Trip’s face. “Haha, _nice_ ,” he said, laughing, and turned toward the nearby net. “Hey, Hunter! We’ve got one more!”

Bobbi, who had watched Fitz accept with a small grin on her face, set her book aside. “Make that two more,” she said, standing up.

Trip reached over to give her a high-five, then shucked off his loose tank top, dropping it on top of the bag next to her chair. Hunter came over to ditch his shirt as well, and he, Trip, and Bobbi headed off toward the volleyball net. “Come on, man,” Trip called, gesturing for Fitz to follow them.

Fitz watched them go for a brief moment. Then, shooting a glance at Callie--who was now fully immersed in sunbathing and ignoring him--he set his jaw and quickly peeled off his own shirt, leaving it with the others before going to catch up.

Raina and Jemma were on their way back down the hill, carrying the last of the bags and coolers. “Woah, check out the chest on Superfreak,” Raina observed, nodding toward where Fitz had just joined Trip, Bobbi, and Hunter with the rest of the group planning to play volleyball. “Not bad. He almost looks like a normal human being from up here.”

“Don’t call him that,” Jemma murmured, readjusting her hold on the bag she was carrying. But she looked ahead with interest, unashamedly eager to see what Fitz looked like shirtless. He obviously wasn’t muscular and toned, not the way Trip and Ed were, or even Hunter, but his shoulders were filled out, likely from using and carrying equipment around his basement. He had a wiry sort of leanness to him that she actually found quite appealing.

“And _god_ , he’s pale,” Raina continued, as though Jemma hadn’t spoken. They approached the chairs the others had set up, where Callie alone now sat, and set their things down. “Is this the first time he’s ever gone outside? I didn’t think it was possible to be more pale than you, Jemma, but I think he is. If the sun hits him just right, we might go blind.”

Jemma shot her a chastising look. “Not all of us can tan,” she said, but Raina had reminded her of something important. She took a step toward the volleyball net and cupped her hands around her mouth. “Fitz!”

His head whipped around to look back at her. When she motioned for him to come over to her, he did, sending little puffs of sand flying as he jogged across the beach. “Yeah?” he asked when he was within earshot.

Jemma bent to dig through her bag, then stood up and held out a brightly colored plastic tube. “Sunscreen! You took your shirt off. If you don’t put more on, you’ll hate yourself later.”

“Oh! Oh, right, yeah--of course,” Fitz said, his cheeks flushing a dull pink.

“Here.” Jemma picked up his hand and turned it over, palm up, so she could squeeze out a generous dollop. “You do your chest, and I’ll do your back.”

Fitz froze in the process of dipping his fingertips into the sunscreen in his hand. “What?”

Jemma smiled, only just holding back a fond eyeroll. Had he always been this adorably flustered, or was it just that the veil had been lifted and she was seeing him in a new light? “Turn around,” she said, drawing a circle in the air with her index finger. “You can’t reach your back, obviously, so I’ll do it for you. It’ll go quicker that way.”

Fitz blinked. “Oh. Um. Right.” He shuffled around, turning his back to her, and Jemma bit her lip to suppress an even wider smile. Really, it was a good thing that Bobbi, Trip, and Hunter were too far away to see her expression, and that Raina and Callie were too preoccupied with soaking up the sun to notice it either. Knowing what she felt now, she was excited at the prospect of getting to touch and appreciate Fitz, and wasn’t sure she was hiding it very well. She could already feel her heart skipping in her chest.

She started with the back of his neck and worked her way down, running her hands over his trapezius muscles and the ridge of his spine, down to the little dip at the small of his back. He felt solid, firm with just the right amount of give. Jemma tried to keep her touch clinical, but that didn’t stop her thoughts from wandering. She wondered what it might feel like to put her arms around him, or have his arms around her. How would his eyes look, up close? How blue would they be? Would his cheeks feel the same beneath her palms as his shoulders? What would his voice sound like, close enough to rumble through her chest?

She let herself indulge in those thoughts for a moment or two before chasing them away. It had been a long time since she’d felt such a giddy rush of feelings and possibilities, and they were nice, but they weren’t very practical. Fitz was her friend and partner in science, nothing more. If she let herself get in too deep emotionally, especially so soon after ending a long-term relationship, she was liable to find herself hurt.

 _Don’t forget, he’s also the focus of your bet_ , a tiny voice reminded her. She shooed that thought away, too.

Together, they worked quickly and efficiently to get Fitz properly covered in sunscreen. When they finished, Jemma wiped the excess lotion off on her knees, almost disappointed that she no longer had an excuse to touch him. _Almost._ “Okay,” she said, “now that you’re done, it’s my turn.” And she grabbed the hem of her sundress in her hands to pull it off over her head.

She was deeply gratified to briefly see Fitz staring at her in her bikini, thunderstruck, before he composed himself and bent to pick up the tube of sunscreen from where she had dropped it on top of her bag. “So, uh, I get your back, yeah?” he asked, his voice cracking, and winced.

“Right,” Jemma said brightly, and held out her hand. Fitz squeezed some sunscreen into her hand, and she promptly turned away from him.

She almost laughed at the first brush of his hands against her back. It was feather-light, timid and unsure, clearly the touch of someone who had never laid hands on someone else before, or wasn’t used to it. She felt a sudden rush of affection for him. If they were alone, she might have teased him a little, just to listen to him stumble and stutter a bit, but--knowing how reserved and guarded he was, and how he felt about the rest of her friends--she didn’t. Raina and Callie were right there, and she didn’t want to open him up to more ribbing than he could handle. Instead, she opted for brisk instructions.

“Make sure you rub it in well,” she said, glancing over her shoulder at him. “And don’t forget to get beneath the straps, so you don’t miss a spot.”

“Right,” Fitz muttered, and fumbled to get a finger beneath one of her shoulder straps. He was frowning, his brow furrowed in intense concentration. “Cannot have that.”

“Oi!” Hunter yelled from the far side of the volleyball net. “Are you two done putting your hands all over each other yet? You’re holding up the game!”

Fitz’s fingers slipped against her shoulder blade as a light ripple of laughter drifted over from the group assembled at the net. Jemma turned to face them, and felt Fitz adjust his position behind her to accommodate. “Unless you want to take us to the hospital for sunburn later,” she yelled back, “you’ll let us finish!”

“Yeah, yeah,” she heard Hunter reply, but there was no real heat behind it, and she was smiling as she rubbed the last of her sunscreen into the tops of her thighs. Behind them, she heard Raina say something to Callie that made the other girl giggle, but it wasn’t loud enough for her to understand.

“All done?” she asked Fitz.

He grunted softly. “Um--almost--hold on--” His palm cut a wide swath down the center of her back, just below the band of her bikini top, before rubbing across the back of her waist. “Okay, done.”

Jemma turned to him and took the sunscreen tube back from him, making sure the cap was on securely before dropping it on top of her sundress. “Thanks, Fitz. Ready to go?”

He gave her a surprised look. “Oh, you’re playing too?”

She laughed as they started off across the sand toward the net. “What, you thought I was going to sit and sunbathe, after all the sunscreen we just put on? You know I can’t tan!”

“No!” he cried, reaching up to scratch at his ear. “I just, uh--I thought you might sit and read, or something.”

This time, she let an eyeroll slip through. “What, and let you have all the fun? Never.” She looked ahead to Trip as they approached the net. “Okay, we’re here. Whose team are we on?”

“You’re with me,” Trip said, spinning the ball in his hands. “Hunter’s already got plenty on his side. You up for first serve?”

“No thanks, you can have it,” Jemma replied, making sure her ponytail was nice and tight. She shot Fitz a grin, and he hesitantly returned it.

“So be it.” Trip moved to take his position near the rear of their team. “Alright, let’s get this started!”

It didn’t take them long to get a rousing game of volleyball going. Jemma was far from an accomplished athlete, but she always had fun playing beach games, occasionally getting in good returns, but mostly just enjoying the exercise and being with her friends. Fitz, as it turned out, was actually half-decent, in defiance of Callie’s assessment of his skills. He wasn’t a good offensive player, but he proved to be adequate at defense, sticking to the rear and keeping an eye out for returns that went long, calculating their trajectories and moving as quickly as he could to send the ball back. He missed just as many times as he hit it, but Jemma was there to help pick up the slack. She lost count of how many times they fell into the sand, diving after the ball, laughing when they missed or when they collided, then helping each other back up. Her heart felt like it had expanded near to bursting, seeing Fitz smile, accepting pointers from Trip, even growing bold enough to exchange a few acerbic taunts with Hunter. He looked happy. She felt validated in her belief that, given a chance, Fitz could fit in well with her friends.

Once they’d played long enough to wear themselves out, they hit the waves to cool off and relax. Fitz followed Jemma into the water with only minimal cajoling, and even engaged in a splash war with her and Bobbi when she refused to let him opt out. By the time they packed up their things and trudged back up the hill to the parking lot, the sun was starting to dip low toward the horizon.

“So!” Trip said, coming up behind them. “Jemma, am I gonna see you at my house tonight?”

Jemma nodded. “Yeah,” she said. “Of course.” Trip was known at school for hosting regular parties that were always a big hit, and he was getting in at least one more before graduation.

Trip reached out to bump his fist against Fitz’s shoulder. “What about you?”

Fitz glanced quickly at Jemma before looking ahead again and licking his lips. “Oh, uh, I don’t know...I, um--no.”

The rush of disappointment Jemma felt was only drowned out by Trip’s. “Aw, come on, man!” he cried, bumping his shoulder again. “You got to!”

“Yeah, you got to!” Raina appeared out of nowhere, running up past Trip to loop her arm around Fitz’s elbow, pulling him away from where he’d been walking next to Jemma. “Trip’s parties are the best. Booze, food, music, hot guys...or, if that’s not your thing, hot ladies.”

Fitz’s shoulders had gone rigid the moment Raina touched him, and he looked profoundly uncomfortable. Jemma had the urge to scold Raina and tell her to let him go, but fear of causing a scene held her back. Instead, she stepped closer to Fitz. “Raina,” she said warningly.

“What?” Raina replied, blissfully unaware of Fitz’s unease. “I’m just saying, he doesn’t want to miss out.” She let go of Fitz and skipped ahead toward her car; Jemma felt rather than saw Fitz exhale in relief.

Trip looked between the two of them. “So? What’ll it be?”

Fitz sighed, then shrugged. “Yeah, okay...sure.”

Trip laughed, pleased, and clapped his hands together. “Excellent! Look, I’ll see you two there, alright? Later.” He waved before heading in the direction of his Jeep.

As they continued toward her car, bits of the conversation behind them carried across the ocean breeze toward their ears.

“Well, this should be interesting,” Callie said, with absolutely no trace of humor in her voice.

“What do you mean?” Bobbi asked.

“Fitz.” Callie’s tone suggested her answer should have been obvious. Jemma glanced at Fitz out of the corner of her eye, but he was walking steadily, chin up and eyes on the sunset, as if he couldn’t hear them.

“Yeah?” Hunter spoke up. “What about him?”

“I’m just saying,” Callie said defensively. “Even if he broke up with her, if Jemma shows up with Fitz tonight, Ed’s gonna shit frisbees.”

“She won’t have to worry about that, because Trip didn’t invite him,” Bobbi said. “And anyway, I’m glad Fitz is coming.”

Their voices faded into the background as they stopped at Hunter’s SUV, and Jemma allowed herself a small smile at Bobbi’s vote of support. It was good to know that at least _most_ of her friends liked Fitz, though she wondered what Callie had against him. She alone--well, and Raina too, to an extent--seemed to be unfriendly toward him. That would tide over, she was sure of it. They would see that he was a good person, a brilliant person, and funny to boot, and then they wouldn’t think he was a loser.

When they reached her car, she stretched to drop her bag in the back seat, then faced Fitz, leaning against the door before he could open it. “Well...we survived, didn’t we?” she asked lightly, smiling up at him.

Fitz smiled slightly--a habit for him, his smiles were rarely bright and wide--and looked down, nodding. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “Yeah, we did.”

Jemma felt her heart flutter at the way his smile softened his face, the way his curls ruffled in the breeze. She clasped her hands together in front of her and took a breath. “So...about Trip’s party…”

“Yeah...about that.” Fitz winced and looked away, rubbing at the back of his neck. “I, um...I can’t go.”

“What?” Jemma’s face fell so fast it might have been comical, if it were any other situation. “But you said--”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” He almost looked ashamed. “It’s just...I, uh--I told my mum I’d help her with some things around the house, and…”

She watched him carefully. Fitz hadn’t hedged this much or been this evasive since the night they went to the expo, and she wondered what exactly had made him change his mind--or simply lie, just to get Trip off his back. Was it Callie? He’d acted like he hadn’t heard her talking, but if _she_ had heard her, there was no way he hadn’t. She wanted to ask him to reconsider, because he’d enjoyed himself that afternoon, she knew he had, and she suspected that he was lying now to get out of going to the party, but he looked so ill at ease that she didn’t have the heart to try. “Oh,” she said instead, swallowing her disappointment.

“Yeah, and, you know, my room, it’s....it’s a mess. It’s almost unlivable.” His shoulders drooped. “Sorry.”

Jemma nodded, then straightened and stepped away from the car. “It’s fine,” she said, and smiled to let him know that she wasn’t angry. When his face relaxed, she knew she’d done the right thing. “I just--well. Thanks for coming out with me today, Fitz. I had a lot of fun.”

He smiled again, that small, soft, hesitant smile that she’d come to adore, and nodded back. “Yeah. Me too.”

Her smile widened, and she moved to open the car door for him. He rolled his eyes at her--her show of manners was appreciated, but not necessary--and slid into the passenger seat. She shut the door after him and walked around the front of the car to take her spot in the driver’s seat, and take Fitz home.


	5. Chapter 5

“What do you mean, he’s not going to the party?” Hunter demanded, looking thoroughly put out. “I thought he said he was!”

It was an hour and a half after Jemma had dropped Fitz off at his house after leaving the beach, and now she was standing in her bedroom, putting the finishing touches on her hair while Hunter and Bobbi watched. They had all showered and changed clothes in preparation of Trip’s party, and Hunter had offered to give Jemma a ride to save on parking space.

“Well, he changed his mind,” Jemma said, unable to hide her disappointment. “Why are you so offended? You’ve only just met him.”

“He seems like an alright bloke,” Hunter explained, crossing his arms. “And he was invited, so he should go.”

Bobbi smiled. “I think you just liked having someone who actually yelled insults back at you,” she teased.

Hunter shrugged. “Yeah, maybe.”

Satisfied with the way her hair fell in soft waves over her shoulders, Jemma flicked the switch on her curling iron and unplugged it from the wall socket. “He said he had some chores to do around the house, so...he’s busy.”

Hunter arched an eyebrow at her. “Did you believe him?”

She paused in the midst of walking to her closet. “Not really.”

“Okay! Great.” Hunter slapped his knees and stood up from where he’d been sitting on the edge of her bed. “So, let’s go by his house on the way to Trip’s and ask again. From what you’ve said, the man could stand to live a little. We’ve got a prime opportunity for him, right here.”

Jemma considered it as she slipped on the sandals she’d chosen to go with her red dress. She really did want to see Fitz again, but she didn’t want to push him too hard. Finally, she sighed. “Alright, we can try. But!” She held up a finger in the face of Hunter’s excitement. “You can’t bully him! If he says no, he says no. And I’ll drive separately, in case he does come but wants to leave early.”

Hunter grinned. “Deal.”

Jemma was a bundle of nerves on the drive over to Fitz’s house. She wondered if she was doing the right thing. Maybe she should just leave him alone--she’d had him out enough already for the day, but she was still certain that he could enjoy himself if he chose to. He was just afraid, she thought. A little too shy. He was growing more comfortable around her; if she stuck with him, maybe he wouldn’t be so hesitant to loosen up.

(And, she thought quietly to herself, she was dressed up to a degree of which Fitz had never seen. She was confident in her appearance, but she didn’t know what Fitz would make of it. Her new awareness of her feelings put a flutter in her gut at the thought of him seeing her at her prettiest, and she hoped he found her to be so.)

She pushed all of that nervousness down, though, and rang the doorbell with Bobbi and Hunter flanking her.

Fitz answered the door. She was amused to see that he was back in his monkey-print pajamas, his hair still damp from a recent shower. He frowned when he saw the three of them, his eyes tracking over their nicer clothes and done-up hair, and he swallowed. “Jemma…?” he asked warily.

“Surprise, again!” she said, as brightly as she could manage in spite of her anxiety, and waved.

“Hey, mate,” Hunter said from behind her. “We’re on our way to Trip’s and thought we’d stop by to tell you to get your arse in the car and come with us.”

“Hunter!” Bobbi hissed, just as Jemma reached behind her to swat at him in horror.

“Oh! No! No, no,” she cried, laughing awkwardly. “We don’t want to _force_ you, we just...we’d really like you to reconsider.”

Fitz’s frown only deepened. “But...I said I--I have to clean…” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder, toward the interior of the house.

Jemma tilted her head. “Fitz, your mum runs a cleaning business. Your house is always spotless.”

Caught in his lie, Fitz hung his head for a moment. Then he sighed. “Look at you,” he said, gesturing at them. “You’re...you look--fantastic. And I look…” He raked a hand through his hair, leaving it sticking it up in the back, then looked down at his threadbare t-shirt and pajamas. “I’m a mess. I can’t go.”

“Oh, that’s not a problem,” Bobbi said easily, stepping forward. “We’ve got a little time. If you let me, I can make you look really hot.”

When Fitz’s eyes widened in alarm, Jemma rushed to say, “Oh, you don’t have to, Bobbi, he can wear whatever he likes--”

“Hey!” Hunter cut in. “What about me, shouldn’t I do it? You know, man to man, I know these things--”

Bobbi rolled her eyes. “Hunter, you’d wear track suits every day if your mom let you get away with it. I don’t trust you.”

Hunter gasped. “Bob, you cut me deep.”

She simply smiled and turned back to Fitz. “So, what do you say?”

His eyes were still wide, frozen in faint terror. “Okay…?” he said.

“Awesome!” Bobbi stepped inside. “I’ll just let you lead the way to your room so we can get started.”

Giving Jemma one last, pleading look, Fitz reluctantly turned to go upstairs. Bobbi gave them a thumbs-up, grinning, before she followed him.

Without anything else to do, Jemma and Hunter came inside, shutting the door behind them, and wandered to the kitchen. They found Mrs. Fitz there, loading the dishwasher. “Jemma!” she said, wiping her hands on a dish towel. “I thought I heard your voice. Oh, you look lovely. And you’ve brought a friend. Big plans?”

“Thank you,” Jemma murmured, smiling. “Ah, yes, this is Lance Hunter--” He gave her a silent salute and smile in greeting. “And we thought we’d ask Fitz over to a party we’re going to. Our friend Bobbi took him upstairs to get ready.”

Mrs. Fitz looked up in interest. “A party?” she asked. “What sort of party?”

“Oh, you know, nothing fancy, really.” Jemma and Hunter exchanged a look, which plainly said _under no circumstances do we mention the alcohol and lack of parental supervision_. “Just music, food, socializing. Typical things.”

Mrs. Fitz nodded in understanding. “Sounds like fun. Just don’t do anything that I wouldn’t do.” She winked.

Hunter made a face where she couldn’t see, clearly unsure of how to take her statement, and Jemma suppressed a giggle. She didn’t think Fitz’s mother looked like the type of person who partied a lot when she was younger, but one could never tell.

She shut the door of the dishwasher and spun the dial to start the cleaning cycle, then brushed her hands off on the dish towel again. “Well, how long do you think they’ll be upstairs? Can I get you anything while you wait? A snack, something to drink?”

“Nah, no thanks,” Hunter murmured, and Jemma politely demurred as well.

They ended up out on the sofa in the living room, making small talk while they watched television. It was a little awkward; Mrs. Fitz’s irregular working hours meant that Jemma still hadn’t seen much of her, and while Hunter could talk until he was blue in the face, it wasn’t always on the most urbane of subjects. Their slightly stilted conversation continued until Mrs. Fitz changed the channel over to Jeopardy! When Jemma started answering as many questions as she could, Hunter started cheerfully booing her and complaining about what he called her ‘preternatural knowledge of everything’. At the clatter of feet on the stairs, they looked up to see Bobbi bounce into the entryway, looking very pleased with herself.

“All done!” she announced. “May I present to you the _not_ new, but slightly improved, Leopold Fitz.” She gestured toward the staircase.

“I _told_ you not to call me that,” came Fitz’s voice, sounding grumpy and annoyed.    

Bobbi _tsked_. “It was just once. Now get your butt down here!”

“Okay, okay, I’m coming.”

Jemma and Hunter rose from the sofa to walk toward the stairs, curious to see the results of Bobbi’s work. Fitz’s feet, clad in his usual blue suede trainers, came into view first, followed by his usual dark jeans. When he rounded the corner at the bottom of the stairs, muttering as he fiddled with one of the rolled cuffs of his shirt, Jemma felt her mouth go dry.

While Fitz typically favored loose plaid shirts open over graphic tees, Bobbi had put him in a smaller, more fitted shirt, cerulean blue to match both his shoes and eyes, and buttoned it up to just below his collarbone. They’d also rolled the sleeves up to his elbows, exposing his forearms, and turned up the cuffs of his jeans. Overall, the subtle difference made him cut a much trimmer figure than he usually did, looking lean instead of gangly. But it was his hair that had changed the most. It was dry now; Bobbi had done something to it, styled it somehow, to where the curls looked almost wavy instead of unruly. Jemma had always thought Fitz was cute, even when she thought he hated her, but now he looked downright _handsome_.

“Well, here I am,” he said, spreading his hands. “Do I get a pass?”

 _Oh yes_ , Jemma thought, and she smiled brightly at him, nodding her head, not quite trusting herself to speak. Next to her, Hunter gave him a thumbs-up. “Looking good, mate,” he said.

Bobbi’s smile turned triumphant. “See? Told you so.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Fitz mumbled, ducking his head, but Jemma could see the beginnings of a small grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“So, are we ready to go now?” Hunter asked, rubbing his hands together. Fitz nodded and moved to gather his wallet from a bowl near the front door.

“Try to be back before midnight,” Mrs. Fitz called from her position on the sofa. “And have fun.”

Fitz huffed a short laugh as Bobbi opened the front door and headed outside, Hunter right behind her. “I don’t think I’ll be gone that long, Mum.”

“Midnight,” she repeated, and Fitz waved her off before gesturing for Jemma to go ahead of him out the door.

He stayed quiet as he followed her out to her car, only speaking up as they slid into their seats and shut the doors. “You look nice,” he said casually, his voice nearly drowned out by the engine of Hunter’s SUV roaring to life. “I mean--I kinda said that already, but--”

Jemma beamed, beyond pleased that he’d noticed and, better yet, said something. “Thanks,” she chirped, and slipped her keys into the ignition. “So do you. I know I said that already too, so…” She shrugged, trying to play it off as light and carefree while her insides were dancing. “We’re even.”

Fitz laughed as he buckled his seat belt. “Yeah, I guess so.”

They kept up a steady stream of chatter on the way to Trip’s house, discussing some of the algorithms they’d come up with for the drones and a few different testing environments they hoped to create. But Fitz fell silent again as she pulled up to the curb outside the sprawling Spanish-style mansion that Trip called home, a certain sort of apprehension rolling off of him in waves. She gave him a reassuring smile as she put the car into park, then stayed close to him as they joined Bobbi and Hunter in winding through the cars parked across the driveway and lawn, heading for the front door. The deep thumping of music bass could be heard even outside, full proof that the party was already in full swing.

Trip met them right inside the door, his face lighting up. “Hey hey hey, glad you guys could make it!” he cheered, nodding specifically at Fitz. He handed both him and Jemma a red plastic cup filled with a deep amber liquid, then clapped them on the shoulders. “Welcome, my friends, to the party that never ends. At least, not until my folks get back from Vegas.”

Fitz, who had just given his drink a cautious sniff, looked out across the spacious open living room in front of them, jam-packed with people talking, dancing, or just hanging out. “Um...do you know all these people?” he asked.

“Nah.” Trip shook his head. “Not all of ‘em. Some of them I know from school, some of them came from Buena Vista across town, some are friends of friends, friends of _their_ friends...you know, a little bit of everybody.” He smiled, charmingly showing off his perfect, white teeth.

“What he’s trying to say,” Hunter said, sidling up with drinks for both him and Bobbi, “is that this is just a typical Antoine Triplett soiree. You’ll be lucky if you recognize half the people here.”

Trip laughed. “But that’s what makes it fun, right? Look, I gotta run and check on some things, but you guys have fun, alright?”

He waved as he headed back off into the crowd, and Jemma moved away from the front door a bit, Fitz at her elbow. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him take a sip of his drink and pull a slight face; it was hard not to smile at what came across as his complete innocence.

Hunter came around to stand by him as they neared the sofas. “Hey, do you ladies mind if I take my man Fitz here and show him around a bit, introduce him to some people?” he asked. “I think I saw some really hot-looking ladies by the kitchen, twins or something, thought we could try and chat ‘em up, yeah?” He nudged Fitz, who choked slightly and turned the same wide, fearful eyes on Jemma he’d had when Bobbi had suggested she could style him.

Bobbi narrowed her eyes slightly, but she shrugged. “No, I don’t mind, if that’s what you want to do. We can meet up later. I need some girl time with Jemma, anyway.” She linked her arm through Jemma’s and turned a bright smile on them.

Jemma’s gut instinct was to stick to Fitz like glue, but the last thing she wanted to do was appear clingy or overprotective. That would definitely get people talking, but for all the wrong reasons. So she shrugged too and waved a hand at Hunter. “No, you two go off and do...whatever it is men bond over. We’ll be here when you get back.”

Fitz, who looked less than pleased, took a large gulp from his cup and grimaced as he swallowed. “Cheers,” he muttered. _You owe me, Jemma_ , he might as well have said. Hunter laughed before pulling him away, and then they too disappeared into the crowd.

Jemma raised an eyebrow as she looked up at Bobbi, who relaxed against the back of the sofa. “‘Hot-looking ladies’?” she asked wryly. “You let him get away with that?”

Bobbi rolled her eyes. “He’s just showing off because of Fitz. He doesn’t mean anything by it.” She paused. “At least, he better not.” Then she looked closely at Jemma and smirked. “What about you? How do you feel about Fitz chatting up hot ladies?”

Jemma looked away, hiding her face behind a sip of her drink. “He can do what he likes,” she replied airily, hoping her evasion skills were up to snuff for once in her life. “He’s just a friend.”

Bobbi didn’t look impressed. “Hmm, right,” she said, taking a sip of her own drink.

“Hey, ladies!” They both looked up to see Raina squeezing her way through the crowd toward them, drink in hand, eyes bright and face pleasantly flushed. “How are you? I saw you when you came in, but I didn’t get a chance to come over until just now.”

“Good, good,” Bobbi replied, reaching out to pull her into a side hug. “About to get in some quality girl time while the boys are off flirting or whatever.”

Raina laughed. “Well, count me in, we’ve got a lot to catch up on. Speaking of boys--” She nudged Jemma with a teasing smile. “I saw you managed to get Fitz to come. So, what’s the deal with you two?”

“Why does everyone want to talk about Fitz?” Jemma complained nervously, opting to play dumb.

Unfortunately, Raina didn’t buy it. “Because you’re with him twenty-four seven now, silly,” she said, poking her again as Bobbi nodded. “I mean, I know you’ve got your little science project going on, but this is a social event. Are you mixing a little business with pleasure, or what?”

For reasons that continued to elude her, Jemma wanted to keep her feelings for Fitz to herself. Maybe it was because they meant her bet with Raina was technically compromised, and she didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of winning and gloating. Or maybe it was because she still needed time to examine those feelings, to fully quantify them and decide exactly where they put her, to gauge Fitz’s behavior to determine if _he_ felt anything, and decide where to go from there. Either way, she wasn’t ready to let her friends in on what she was thinking. So she took another sip of her drink, and hoped to god that the casual air she was affecting played true.   

“Really, I mean it, we’re just friends,” she said. “Besides, it’s...it’s just for the bet.”

Raina nodded, but she didn’t seem fully convinced either. “I see.”

Suddenly, a loud uproar sounded over the music, people cheering and cat-calling near the front door. They turned toward the commotion to see what the fuss was about, and Jemma’s stomach sank. It was Ed, throwing high-fives to everyone within reach, his arm slung around--Callie?

“What?” she breathed, staring, an arrow of betrayal striking her square in the chest.

Behind her, Raina gave a low chuckle. “Well, this party just got _really_ interesting.”

“He’s not supposed to be here,” Bobbi said, scowling. “Trip specifically did not invite him, on purpose.”

“I’m thinking Callie’s using the plus-one rule.” Raina held up her cup. “I’m going to need a lot more beer for this. I’ll be right back.”

She left, heading toward the kitchen, but Jemma barely noticed. She just watched as Ed made his way through the crowd, laughing loudly as he exchanged greetings with people along the way, drinking from the cup that had already made its way into his hands, all while keeping one arm tight around Callie’s shoulders. Jemma was lucky in that she had been able to largely avoid him at school, making the clean break she’d asked for that much easier, and her adjustment to being single had been relatively smooth. But seeing him like this--unexpected, uninvited, and clearly on close terms with one of her friends--felt like a slap in the face.

“Do you want me to stay with you?” Bobbi murmured, watching as Ed and Callie stopped briefly to dance with a few people.

Jemma sighed and shook her head to clear her thoughts. “No,” she said, and took a large swig of her drink before setting it down on a nearby end table. “But thank you. I should probably just get it over with. Rip off the band-aid, as they say.” She looked up at Bobbi and gave her a small smile. “I’ll be fine.”

Bobbi patted her back before disappearing into the crowd, and Jemma took in a deep breath, then squared her shoulders. Ed and Callie had just swung directly into her line of sight, giggling and unsteady on their feet. Both of them were clearly drunk, and Jemma couldn’t help but frown. That was unlike the Ed she knew, who drank socially but never to the point of getting wasted. Then again, she wouldn’t have expected him to smear her name if they ever broke up, either, but he’d done that too.

He caught her eye as he turned away from giving someone another high-five and let go of Callie to approach her, a sloppy grin on his face. “Hey Jems, long time, no see,” he said, a slur marring the edges of his voice. “How’ve you been?”

“Ed,” she returned coolly, folding her arms and giving him a disapproving look over. “Are you drunk? Did you drive here like that?”

He rolled his eyes and let out an exaggerated sigh. “Well hello to you too, then! God, Jemma, _no_ , Callie drove.”

Jemma hummed. “So,” she said, making a show of inspecting her nails, “how long has that been going on? You and her?”

Ed shrugged. “A little while. Not long. But hey, you’ve got room to talk, I heard you’ve been hooking up with Lord of the Nerds. Damn, Jemma, you must be _desperate_.”

Jemma felt her face flush as a wave of anger rolled through her, fueled by the infuriatingly cocky look on Ed’s face. “Firstly,” she said, eyes flashing, “ _don’t_ call him that. Secondly, we are _not_ hooking up, and anyway, it’s no longer any of your business what I do in my free time. And I am _not_ desperate. I--I’m perfectly capable of getting a date, any date, if I want to.”

Ed laughed, holding up his hands as if to ward her off. “Jesus, Jems, calm down! I’m just messing with you. You know, joking, right? Haha, funny?” When she did nothing but glare at him, he shook his head. “God, and I’d almost forgotten how uptight you are.”

She bit her lip, trying to mask how much his comment stung as all of her recent insecurities came rushing back. “It’s not funny if the other person isn’t laughing, Ed,” she said, a bit unsteadily.

He made a face, then thrust the cup in his hand at her. “Here,” he said, “you need this more than I do. Loosen up a bit.”

Jemma politely pushed his hand out of the way. “I’m fine, thanks.”

Ed shrugged again and took another sip from it. “Suit yourself.” Then he abruptly turned away and strode off into the crowd, calling out for Callie.

Jemma exhaled, releasing some tension in her back and shoulders she hadn’t realized she was holding, and tried to relax. She wasn’t _upset_ , not really, but the conversation had left her feeling a little unsettled. Suddenly she felt very alone in the midst of the party, isolated and adrift in the press of bodies crammed into the living room. She wanted nothing more than to surround herself with friends, to wrap herself in their safe support, for a reminder that she was valuable and wanted. She turned toward the kitchen, looking for any sign of Raina or Bobbi, but found Hunter instead, coming from the direction of the doors leading to the back patio.

“Hunter!” she cried in relief, drawing his gaze. Then she frowned at the empty space next to him. “Where’s Fitz?”

He frowned back as he changed pace to come stand next to her. “What? He said he was going to the loo, but then I thought he would’ve come back out here to find you. Where’s Bob?”

“Getting another drink, I think,” Jemma replied, craning her neck to look around for a sign of any of their friends. She found none. “Ed’s here. With Callie.”

Hunter blinked, taking a step back. “What?” he said again.

Jemma sighed. “Yes, I know. We’ve already had our inevitable confrontation, I guess. He was a total arse.”

“Does Trip know?” When Jemma shook her head, Hunter rubbed a thumb along his jawline. “Think we should give him a head’s up? I mean, he didn’t give him an invite for a reason, and--” Suddenly, something over her shoulder caught his attention, and his eyes widened in alarm. “Oh, bloody hell--”

She turned to see what he was looking at, and her breath froze. It was Fitz, walking back in from the hallway, his eyes scanning the crowd, clearly looking for them. But Ed, who was nearby, had seen him too and was already charging across the room, looking positively thunderous. Her heart in her throat, Jemma took a step forward, but there was no way she would reach him in time.

_If Jemma shows up with Fitz tonight, Ed’s gonna shit frisbees._

“What the hell are _you_ doing here?”

Ed’s shout rose over the din of chatter and music, and in an instant the crowd hushed, everyone’s attention zeroing in on the promise of a fight brewing.

Fitz had taken a step back in surprise, but he squared his shoulders and lifted his chin slightly as he looked up at Ed, who had a few intimidating inches over him in height. “I was invited,” he replied, voice steady.

Ed huffed. “Really? Was it Jemma? Is she going to give you a pity fuck later, too?”

Jemma felt herself flush scarlet as a smattering of whispers broke out over the crowd, and she stepped forward again, but a hand at her elbow--Hunter--stopped her. Across the room, Fitz’s hands curled into fists as his nostrils flared. “Don’t--”

“Doesn’t your mom clean my house?” Ed cut in, sneering.

Fitz narrowed his eyes. “Yeah, but once she found your dirty porn stash, she put you on the no-call list.”

Behind her, Hunter snorted loudly, while someone else nearby actually laughed.

Ed’s eyes went wide. “What?!”

Fitz flexed his fists at his sides. “Yeah, I mean, didn’t peg you to be the type to go after grannies, but--”

Without warning, Ed stepped forward and upended the contents of his cup all over Fitz’s chest, soaking the front of his shirt through. Fitz’s jaw dropped and he jerked backward as the whole crowd gasped, but Ed flicked his wrist with savage satisfaction, making sure every last drop made out onto him. “Get your mom to clean _that_ , asshole,” he snapped.

Jemma was frozen, staring in horror, as Fitz looked down at the stain on his shirt, the tips of his ears crimson. For a moment she thought he might attack Ed, but when he looked back up, something cold and hard had settled over his face. “Thank you,” he ground out.

Ed blinked. “Excuse me?”

“Thank you,” Fitz repeated, louder, a slight wobble to his voice. “For a moment, I forgot why I avoided places like this and people like you.”

“ _You_ avoided _us_?” Ed barked a short, drunken laugh. “It’s the other way around. Look.” He gestured to the crowd watching. “To everyone here who matters, you’re nothing. You’re shit. You’re a complete waste of space. Nothing’s ever going to change that.”

Fitz still had his shoulders back in defiance, but he was biting his lip hard, blinking rapidly. “Holy shit,” Ed crowed. “You’re not going to cry, are you?”

His chin trembling, Fitz turned and all but ran for the front door, pushing aside anyone who wasn’t quick enough to get out of his way. It was only when he reached the door that Jemma came back to herself, and sprang into action; she gave Hunter an agonized look before chasing after Fitz, the sound of the crowd’s shocked murmurs and whispers filling up the vacuum that remained.

She caught up with him on the front lawn. Fitz was winding his way through the cars parked on the grass, head down and fists still clenched at his sides. She called his name, but he didn’t stop or slow down, so she doubled her speed. When he was within reach, she put a hand out to grab his arm. “Fitz--”

“Don’t--” He roughly shrugged her off, then swore loudly as he viciously kicked the tire of the car closest to him. Jemma flinched back, hesitant and almost afraid at his display. She didn’t know how to react to the barely-controlled rage roiling just beneath his surface. He was like a hurt animal, instinctively lashing out at anything that dared approach.

Once he’d vented his physical anger, he started pacing, hands on his hips, face tilted up to the sky as he took in deep, shuddering breaths. He was still blinking furiously, clearly trying not to cry, just as Ed has predicted, but Jemma didn’t know if they were tears of anger, shame, or sadness.

She took a cautious step toward him. “Fitz…”

He shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut. “I--I swore I’d never, ever....never…”

Jemma swallowed. “Never what?”

Fitz finally stopped pacing and hung his head. “I’d never let them see me break,” he muttered, his voice hollow and broken.

Jemma’s heart fractured at the pain he was so obviously feeling. Unsure of how to mitigate it, to fix it, make things better, she took another step and reached out to him. Her fingertips brushed against his arm. “Fitz,” she tried again, “it’s--it’s okay, he--”

He pulled away from her again, turning to her with an incredulous look. “ _No_ , it is _not_ ‘okay’,” he spat, his shoulders hunching in. “You don’t know, you’ve never had to worry about anything like this, about being humiliated, just because of who you are!”

Jemma’s mouth fell open in stunned hurt. “Fitz, that’s not fair,” she said. “You heard what he said about--about me giving--”

She wasn’t able to finish her sentence, her face flushing at the memory, but she got her point across all the same. Fitz’s shoulders sagged as some of the fight went out of him, and he turned away from her, pinching the bridge of his nose with a sigh. “I never should have come here,” he mumbled.

A horrible feeling struck Jemma then, that he regretted everything: the entire day, all of it, even the beach, where he had clearly enjoyed himself. Even worse, she worried that he regretted ever befriending her. She knew how guarded he was and that he’d taken a risk in coming out today with her; here, it had backfired spectacularly, and now she was afraid he would pull away. Not wanting to lose the precious ground she’d gained, she stepped around in front of him, trying to get back into his line of sight, and placed her hands on his shoulders, giving them a gentle squeeze.

“Hey,” she murmured. “You--you were having fun today.” Fitz huffed a humorless laugh and looked away, but she squeezed his shoulders again. “ _We_ were having fun. Right?”

His eyes flicked up to hers and he gave a brief, terse nod. She felt herself relax slightly.

“See?” She smiled, and felt brave enough to run one tender palm down, over his sodden shirt, to press against his chest over his heart. “Sometimes...sometimes, when you let people in, you have to accept the bad along with the good. That doesn’t excuse what he did, but maybe...the good overall can outweigh it.”

Fitz nodded again, but still refused to look at her. She took the nod as an encouragement, though, and squeezed his shoulders again, trying to offer what comfort she could, meager though it was. After a moment, he exhaled. “I want to go home,” he said quietly.

This time, Jemma nodded. “Okay,” she whispered, and stepped back, sliding a hand around between his shoulder blades to guide him toward her car.

The drive to his house was quiet, Fitz staring moodily out the window as the glow of streetlights and passing signs played over his face. Jemma desperately wanted to know what he was thinking, or to fill the air with chatter--but she couldn’t think of anything to say that wouldn’t be painfully banal in light of what had just happened.

When she pulled into his driveway and Fitz silently unbuckled his seatbelt and reached for the door handle, Jemma’s heart sank at the realization that he was going to leave without saying anything. She didn’t want the night to end on such a sour note. Dismayed and afraid, she reached across the center console to stop him, her fingers curling around his hand. He froze, his eyes going first to her hand on his, then her face.

“Tomorrow,” she said. “Are we still on for tomorrow? To work on the drones?”

He stared at her for a moment before swallowing. “No, I--I can’t,” he said awkwardly. “I have to work. I...I got called in.”

Jemma could only stare back at him, feeling crushed. He was lying; he had to be. His schedule for Sunday had been free all week, and while it was possible his boss had called him during the short time after she’d dropped him off from the beach and before she’d shown back up with Bobbi and Hunter, she had to consider that he was making up an excuse to get out of seeing her. To avoid her. Because he didn’t want to be around her.

"Oh,” she said, both her voice and her expression betraying her upset. “I see.” She pulled her hand away, back into her lap, and gave him a weak smile. “Monday, then?”

She couldn’t quite decipher Fitz’s expression, somewhere between sadness and regret and something else she didn’t understand. He bit his lip and nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “Monday. I’ll see you then.”

Then he opened the door and got out, slamming it shut behind him. Jemma watched as he walked up the path to the front door, pulling his keys from his pocket. He wasted no time in going inside.

And he never once looked back.


	6. Chapter 6

Jemma spent most of Sunday in a state of indecisive despair, torn between giving Fitz the space he’d so clearly wanted, and texting him to make sure he was okay.

She hated the thought of him at home, possibly by himself, stewing in anger and humiliation over what Ed had done. She didn’t want Fitz to believe the lies he’d spouted, that he was nothing. He was _everything_. Fitz was brilliant and kind and funny, and worth so much more than anyone gave him credit for. She could see it. Daisy could see it. She was sure Bobbi and Hunter and Trip could see it, too. So could everyone else, given effort and time.

Having realized her feelings for Fitz ran much deeper than that of friendship, the last thing Jemma wanted to happen was for him to take the whole incident as evidence that she wasn’t worth bothering with again and close off their relationship to just that of lab partners, to finish work on the drones--and then cut her out completely. She couldn’t handle that. She wanted to see him, speak to him, console him, or even push past it and get back to work, if he wanted to. She just didn’t want him to go back to ignoring her.

Early in the afternoon, her self-control broke, and she settled on what she considered a compromise: an animated gif of two chimpanzees she’d found through an internet search, fighting over bananas. In her opinion, it struck the perfect chord between adorableness and humor, and would hopefully make him smile. She texted it to him before she could change her mind.

_[Jemma] made me think of you._

She kept casting glances at her phone for the rest of the day, hoping to see a response. She received her usual texts from Bobbi and Raina (though none from Callie, she noted somewhat bitterly), but Fitz never replied. Her mood continued to sink as the afternoon wore into evening, as she finished her homework, straightened up her room, and helped her mother finish dinner. It felt very much like that first night she had sat waiting to hear from him, but she was so much more invested now. Her emotions were all tied up in his well-being, and his silence was fueling her worries.

Just as she walked back into her room after dinner, intent on doing some reading, she heard her phone’s notification chime. Assuming it was Bobbi, she didn’t hurry to pick it up. When she finally did, however, her heart skipped a beat to see the text was from Fitz. She quickly swiped her thumb across the screen to open up her messaging app. He’d texted her a video link, followed by a brief note.

_[Fitz] thinking of you too_

Feeling a rush of relief, she brought up the video he’d sent her. It was of someone documenting the reaction of a five-pound gummy bear candy to potassium chlorate. A little juvenile, perhaps, borne of someone with too much time and resources on their hands, but still an interesting process to watch. It lightened the weight on her heart considerably. It was evidence that Fitz had put some effort into finding something he thought she would like, too, and that proof of effort made all the difference in the world.

She brought his text back up, smiling softly at his words on the screen, and contemplated her response.

_[Jemma] imagine using that as a test subject for the DWARFs!_

To her continued relief, his reply came quickly. If he really was at work, perhaps he was on a break.

_[Fitz] we’d get valuable data for sure, but it’s a waste of a perfectly good gummy bear_   
_[Fitz] a giant one too_   
_[Fitz] it adds insult to injury_

She laughed to herself. Of course Fitz would be concerned with the destruction of junk food.

_[Jemma] it’s science! sometimes sacrifices have to be made_

They exchanged texts for a few more minutes, bickering over their differing opinions on what constituted acceptable scientific sacrifices, until Fitz stopped replying. Jemma figured his break was over, but she didn’t ask whether or not he was actually at work. She didn’t want to put him on the spot, and besides, part of her didn’t want to know the truth anyway. It was like Schroedinger’s question: as long as she didn’t know where he was, he hadn’t lied to her.

Things were probably better that way.

-:-

Gossip traveled fast, and at school the next morning, everyone was talking about the confrontation between Ed and Fitz. Reactions were varied, but Jemma was a little surprised (and pleased) to discover that there was a fairly even split in support. The usual suspects among their class were glad to see someone as low on the social totem pole as Fitz get shamed in public, but there were many others who seemed impressed that someone had stood up and mouthed off to Ed. She saw several appraising glances get thrown in Fitz’s direction over the course of the day, and felt glad and even a little proud that people were finally starting to take positive notice of him. She just wished it hadn’t come at such an embarrassing price.

For his part, Fitz acted like the whole thing never happened. He refused to talk about it, even to Daisy, leaving her to beg details from Jemma while he went to go dump his food tray at the end of lunch. Jemma wondered if this was how he dealt with things: by pushing them away and ignoring them, out of sight, out of mind. Thinking back on his treatment of her over the years and what he had revealed to her of his view of their early interactions at school, she thought she was probably right. It wasn’t the healthiest way to cope, but Jemma didn’t have the heart to needle him about it. She was just as eager as he was to examine her ex-boyfriend’s sudden vicious cruel streak.

By the end of the week, the story had made the rounds so many times it had reached near-mythic proportions, with several different variations on the truth, each told by someone who swore they were there and had witnessed the entire thing. In one version, a large brawl had broken out which ended with the arrival of police on the scene, forcing everyone to scatter to the winds. In another, Ed and Fitz got into a fistfight over Jemma’s honor in the fountain on the Tripletts’ back patio. In yet another, which Hunter deemed his personal favorite, the two of them ended up crashing through a window out onto the front lawn.

“The property damage really takes it to the next level,” Hunter said as they walked outside at the end of the day. “That makes it go from just an okay story to a really _good_ one.”

“It’s not even true,” Bobbi shot back, rolling her eyes amusedly.

Hunter shrugged, unfazed. “Who cares? It sounds awesome.”

“I swear to god,” Trip said, shaking his head. “I know I keep saying it, but if I’d gotten there faster, Ed would have been out on his ass. Thinking he can come to _my_ house and pull that kind of shit...”

Jemma bit her lip and looked down. “I still feel like I should have said something. Gotten between them, maybe, or stopped him.”

“Can’t blame you for not,” Hunter reasoned. “It was like watching a train wreck. You can’t do anything until it’s over and done.”

“I doubt you could have made it any better,” Bobbi added. “It was never going to end well.”

Jemma sighed. “It’s just...I’ve never seen Ed be so _mean_ before. That was completely unlike the man I know.” She wrinkled her nose. “Knew.”

“Well, you saw him,” Hunter said. “He was completely shitfaced. Of course he wasn’t himself.”

 _Or maybe he was, and the beer just brought out all his unfavorable qualities_ , she thought darkly.

Someone carrying a stack of brightly-colored paper crossed in front of them, shoving a handful of sheets into Trip’s chest as they went. He juggled to catch them before they slipped to the ground, then stopped to read them. “Hey, looks like prom court nominations are out,” he said, handing them each a sheet as they gathered around.

Jemma’s heart leapt into her throat. She grabbed onto her copy, her eyes flying right past the nominations for prom queen--her name was listed there, which neither surprised nor excited her--straight to the names for prom king.

_Ed Huntington  
Leo Fitz _

“Oh my god!” she breathed. “Fitz!”

“Look at that!” Trip said with a delighted laugh. “Congratulations, girl, looks like you got him on the ballot!”

Hunter leaned into Bobbi to look at the sheet she was holding as Jemma looked up. “Oh, _I_ didn’t do anything. He got on through his own merits. But--I wonder who nominated him, I’d forgotten the deadline was this week, myself…”

She looked around, scanning the crowd of students milling about, waiting on their rides or walking to the parking lot. Fitz had to work that evening, so Daisy was giving him a ride home, but it was possible they hadn’t left yet. Jemma was in luck--she spotted them by the benches, each staring down at a piece of paper in their hands. Fitz looked dumbfounded.

“Fitz!” she called, heading toward him and waving her own copy of the nomination list. Both he and Daisy looked up at her shout, and Daisy’s face lit up.

“Do you see this?!” she cried, giving Fitz a playful shove. He stumbled back a step as he continued to frown at the list.

“Hey, mate, congratulations,” Hunter said as he, Bobbi, and Trip came up behind Jemma.

Fitz shook his head. “I don’t understand,” he mumbled. “Who the hell would nominate _me_?”

“Someone who saw you Saturday and thought you were pretty badass, I guess,” Trip said, smiling. He put a fist out to Fitz. Fitz blinked at it for a moment, unsure of how to react, before he hesitantly reached out and grabbed it, giving it a quick shake. Trip’s grin widened. “Also,” he added, “because I didn’t get a chance to before...just wanted to say I’m sorry about what went down. That shouldn’t have happened.”

Fitz shrugged, looking a little uncomfortable. “Uh...it’s, it’s fine,” he said, glancing away briefly. “Sorry I made things awkward.”

Trip _tsked_. “Nah, man, that wasn’t you! The only awkward thing was reminding Ed which way the front door was when I told him to leave.”

Nodding, Fitz looked back at the nominations list and blew out a breath. “I wasn’t even planning on going.”

“Now you’ll have to,” Bobbi said with a sideways smirk at Jemma. “This will be a huge vote, I bet.”  

Daisy, who had been watching their conversation with a smile, turned to Trip, laughing. “Hey, aren’t you in my Comp Sci class?”

He flashed her his trademark brilliant grin. “Yes, yes I am. Daisy Johnson, right? How’re you handling that final coding project?”

“Oh, god, it’s _so_ easy. It’s kid’s stuff. What about you? Do you--”

She was cut off by the sound of multiple phone notifications sounding. As one, Trip, Hunter, and Bobbi pulled their phones from their pockets and swiped at their screens.

Trip immediately made a sour face. “Man, I _know_ that boy is not texting me right now.”

“Ed?” Hunter asked, scratching at his chin. “Texted me, too. The hell?”

“I’ve got one from Callie,” Bobbi murmured.

Jemma exchanged a glance with Fitz. Her phone had remained silent, and they both knew why. He almost looked concerned for her, something that made her heart flutter unexpectedly in her chest.

After taking a second to read the message on her phone, Bobbi sighed. “It’s an emergency,” she reported. “Callie said she just had a huge fight with Ed and they’re ‘over’, quote, end quote.” She frowned. “Did they really even start?”

“Ed’s calling bro code,” Trip reported. “He’s got a lot of nerve, texting me after what he pulled.”

“Well, that didn’t last very long,” Jemma muttered, feeling only slightly guilty at the sense of vindictive glee that washed through her. Next to her, Fitz let out a soft snort.

Hunter shrugged expressively, pocketing his phone and looking done with the matter. “I say, let ‘em rot.”

Bobbi, however, still looked a little concerned. “Should we at least check on Callie, though? I mean, she’s still technically our friend.”

Hunter gave her a severe look. “Yeah, and things change.”

-:-

Jemma was still thinking about Hunter’s words well into the next day. They were innocuous enough, but they’d struck an unexpectedly deep chord. _Yeah, and things change_. It felt like a lot of things had started to change in her life ever since she and Ed had broken up, and in some ways she wasn’t sure where it left her. She’d gained friends in Fitz and Daisy, but she’d lost Callie, and some of her other friendships--Raina in particular--felt strained because she hadn’t been giving them the attention they deserved.

She was trying to repair some of that damage by going on a girls’ day out. She’d taken the day off from working on the drones with Fitz and was currently strolling down the sidewalk outside the shops at the mall with Raina and Bobbi, chatting and sipping drinks--frappuccinos for Raina and Bobbi, passion tea with lemonade for her. It was a perfect afternoon for it, sunny and warm, and it felt good to get out and about with her girlfriends to do a little bit of shopping.

But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t get her heart and mind fully into it. Being with Raina, combined with the announcement of the prom court nominations, had her preoccupied with their bet. In truth, aside from the very beginning and whenever Raina happened to bring it up, Jemma hadn’t actually given the bet much thought. It had been a means to an end, a reason to get Fitz to talk to her, but once that had been secured, it no longer felt important. She honestly didn’t care whether or not she was voted in as prom queen, and Fitz obviously cared even less than she did. In fact, she was quite sure he would hate the attention being elected prom king would bring.

What could she do about it? Her pride kept her from simply calling it off, and she didn’t think Raina would let it go so easily, either. But it felt like a dirty secret, and she didn’t want something like that to be between them, even if Fitz was unaware of it. Maybe she could just pretend like she’d never accepted the bet to begin with, and if she didn’t bring it up, Raina wouldn’t either, and then they could all forget about it and move on happily with their lives.

Maybe.

She was so absorbed in her thoughts that she wasn’t paying full attention to where she was going, and nearly stumbled over a large placard sign set up outside a cafe. Bobbi and Raina burst out laughing, and Jemma ducked her head to hide the flush that spread across her cheeks.

“Girl, you are just not with it today!” Raina cried, elbowing her. “What’s got into you?”

“Yeah, you haven’t been talking much,” Bobbi added. “Are you okay?”

Jemma hid a grimace behind a sip of her tea as they started walking again. “I’m sorry, really. I--I’ve just got a lot on my mind.”

“Well, I don’t blame you,” Raina said, swinging her shopping bags in her hand. “I’d have a lot on my mind too, if I were you.”

“What do you mean?” Jemma asked curiously, frowning.

Raina shrugged. “It’s been weeks since you and Ed broke up, right? That means it’s been awhile since you’ve gotten any. You’re going through withdrawals. My focus would probably be off, too.”

Jemma spluttered, feeling her cheeks heat up again. She’d expected Raina to mention their upcoming final exams, or graduation, or even further ahead to starting college, but this? She felt thrown for a loop. “Trust me, that is _not_ it,” she said, trying to regain her composure.

“I’m just saying, I wouldn’t think less of you if it was,” Raina sang. “And, you know, Ed wanted to stay on good terms with you...I’m sure he’d be up for a bit of no-strings-attached fun if you needed to get by, especially since things with Callie didn’t work out.”

Jemma barely suppressed an eyeroll, shaking her head instead. The mere idea of having anything to do with Ed now was simply preposterous. “No, I really don’t think so. After Trip’s party, I don’t have anything left to say to him.”

“So maybe it really _is_ Fitz you want to go after now.” Raina peered at her closely and grinned as she took a sip of her drink. “Is that it? Have you been holding out on us? Do you know something about him that we don’t?”

“Raina…” Bobbi murmured, sensing she was treading on a delicate topic.

Jemma’s shoulders had gone tense; she inhaled carefully, trying not to look too defensive. She didn’t want to tip them off as to how important Fitz had become to her. “It’s not like that,” she said. She didn’t want anything casual with him, something one-off, not the way Raina was implying. She wanted _more_.

“Oh.” Raina nodded, then took another long sip of her coffee, chewing on the end on her straw. “Well, if you’re not going to try, do you mind if I do? Because I thought he cleaned up rather nicely and he showed a lot of spark, he might be a fun little--”

“No!”

At Raina’s suggestion, a dull, queasy sort of flush had rolled over Jemma in a wave, dismay and protectiveness and--yes, she could admit it--jealousy combining to churn sour in her stomach. The thought of Raina trying anything with Fitz left her feeling sick, and it was what made her stop in her tracks, putting a hand out to grab Raina’s arm and stop her. Bobbi did as well, her eyes going wide as she looked between the two of them.

“No!” Jemma cried again. “Don’t, don’t touch him, leave him alone!”

Raina’s eyebrows went up. “Oh?” she said again, a hard challenge in her voice. “But I thought you just said it wasn’t like that between you, so it didn’t matter.”

Jemma swallowed down a bubble of rising panic. “It’s--he--he’s a _person_ , not a piece of meat! You can’t treat him like one.”

Raina’s expression clouded over. “You know what? I’ve had it, Jemma! You can’t have it both ways. I’m sick of seeing you always get everything you want, getting your way, everything handed to you on a silver platter. You’ve fooled everyone into thinking you’re some sort of perfect princess who has it all together, but I know better! You’re just an insecure, uptight little freak magnet, and I’m going to make sure everybody knows it! You’re not getting your way this time. You’re going down, bitch.”

She turned and stalked angrily off down the sidewalk. Jemma and Bobbi watched her go in stunned silence, shocked speechless by her outburst. Jemma felt the sting of embarrassed and hurt tears, and swiftly brushed a hand beneath her eyes to quell them; she couldn’t cry in public.

“She...she didn’t mean all that,” Bobbi said faintly, turning to look at her in concern.

Jemma bit her lip. “I think she did,” she replied quietly, watching Raina turn the corner at the far end of the block. Raina had her faults just like any other person, and among them was the ability to keep and hold a grudge. She wondered just how long she’d been letting this one fester, how long she’d been putting up a pretense of friendship while secretly wishing her demise. What had she done wrong? Now she’d lost another friend. How many more were yet to go?

An undeniable feeling of dread settled in her stomach, and Jemma couldn’t help but think that this was only the beginning.

-:-

The breakdown of her friendship with Raina was still weighing heavily on Jemma’s mind when she arrived at Fitz’s house Sunday afternoon, but she was determined to set it aside for a few hours in order to focus on the new familiarity of time spent with Fitz. Working side by side with him was a comfort her battered esteem sorely needed, and she was looking forward to talking to him. The rush of butterflies his smile set to flight in her stomach was just an added bonus.

(It had been such a long time since she’d felt the freshness of a new crush, the warmth a simple glance could produce, the tingles a laugh or a joke could invoke. She was eager to indulge herself.)

Mrs. Fitz let her in, telling her that Fitz was already down in the basement. Jemma thanked her and headed for the stairs, careful not to be too loud in opening the door or shutting it behind her. She didn’t want to startle him, in case he was working with something delicate.

“Fitz?” she called out, not immediately seeing him at his workbench.

“Yeah, I’m here,” he answered, his voice muffled. “Just give me a minute, I’m looking for something.”

As she descended the stairs, she saw that Fitz was halfway in the closet next to the sofa, making a loud racket as he rummaged in and around the plastic bins stacked inside, muttering to himself as he searched for something. Jemma smiled fondly at his back before going to take a seat on the stool at his workbench.

She poked around the stacks of blueprints and scrawled notes that littered the edge of the table, looking for his latest set of notes on Sneezy--honestly, she was going to have to restart their ongoing debate on lab cleanliness, because this was a travesty--when something caught her eye. It was a small wooden picture frame, shoved to the back of the bench against the wall, almost completely hidden beneath the accumulated detritus of Fitz’s work. That explained why she’d never seen it before. Curious, she reached out to pick it up for a closer look.

Inside was a faded color photo of a smiling young man in grease-stained coveralls. A little boy sat on his shoulders, his hair a mop of messy curls, all knobby-kneed and bright-eyed, smiling as wide as the sun. They looked to be in a garage of some sort; a car was visible behind them, the hood propped open, and the boy held a wrench in one hand. The young man’s hair was straight, but the facial resemblance between the two was striking. They looked...happy. Close. Carefree.

“Ah! Here we go!” Fitz pulled himself out of the closet, holding up a small plastic tub. “Connector cables. Now we can make those mods on Sneezy I was telling you about.”

Jemma held the picture frame up for him to see as he came over to join her at the workbench. “Is this your father?”

Something in Fitz’s face closed off as his eyes fell on the photo. “Yeah,” he said, dropping the tub.

She looked back at the photo, tracing her finger around the edge of Fitz’s smile, chubby-cheeked in youth. “What happened to him?” she asked.

Fitz busied himself with opening the tub and sifting through its contents for a moment before replying. “Car accident,” he said. “He was coming back to the garage from a salvage yard outside the city. Lorry driver fell asleep at the wheel and just…” He bit his lip, pushing his hands together to mime a collision. “They said he died instantly. So, there’s that at least. He didn’t suffer.”

Jemma watched as he sighed and set the tub aside, only to start digging through his blueprints, studiously not looking at her. “I’m sorry,” she said softly.

He shrugged, far more casually than seemed appropriate. “Don’t be. It happened, you can’t change it.”

She frowned, wishing he didn’t feel the need to act so stoic, and glanced at the photo again. “What was he like?”

Fitz paused in the midst of lifting up his laptop to smile, though it was brief and strained. “He was funny,” he said. “Always telling jokes, trying to make Mum laugh. That’s what I remember the most, him laughing.” He reached up to scratch at his eyebrow. “He was a mechanic. Used to bring me with him to the garage on weekends and show me how things worked. Some people didn’t think it was a very respectable job, but he was good at it, you know?” He looked up at her, as if he thought she would judge him, but she only smiled, nodding, encouraging him to continue. “I like to think he passed some of that on to me,” he added. “That all those afternoons in the garage got me started in engineering. I think he’d be proud of all this.” He gestured at the workbench, at the blueprints and the sketches and all the bits and bobs just waiting to be put together to create a new drone. “A mechanic’s boy, going to Stanford on scholarship.”

Jemma didn’t think she’d ever felt more for Fitz than she did in that moment: admiration, pride, care, longing. “I think he’d be proud too,” she said, instinctively feeling it to be true. The smiling man in the photo would be nothing short of pleased with the man his son had grown up to be.

“Yeah, well.” Fitz looked down, the brief flicker of warm nostalgia disappearing from his face. “That’s just one more thing about him I’ll never know.” He turned away to dig through another stack of papers.

The moment, whatever it had been, was clearly over. Jemma felt her heart clench with sadness and--strangely enough--more than a hint of exasperation. Giving the photo one last look, she set it carefully back down on the workbench, out of the way, where it couldn’t get knocked over. Then she swiveled on her stool to face Fitz, whose back was still to her. “You don’t have to do that, you know,” she said quietly.

“Do what?” His tone suggested that he knew exactly _what_ , but was intentionally playing dumb in order to put her off.

She wouldn’t be so easily dissuaded. “ _That_ ,” she said, gesturing at his back, even though he couldn’t see. “Acting like things don’t matter, when they do. Shutting people out. Shutting _me_ out.”

“So what if I do?” he shot back irritably. “Keeps me from getting hurt. It’s been working out pretty well, too, so far.”

“Has it?” Jemma challenged. “That’s no way to live. It’s _lonely_ , and I doubt _he_ would want you to live like this, shutting yourself away--”

Fitz slammed a hand down on top of the workbench, making her flinch. “You don’t get to use him against me like that.”

Jemma exhaled shakily. “Okay. You’re right, I’m sorry. I--I don’t.” She folded her hands in her lap, sobering. “It’s just...I don’t like seeing you like this.”

Fitz shrugged a bit lamely, the fight having gone out of him, too. “It’s fine,” he mumbled, trailing a finger along the edge of the workbench. “I’m fine. I get by. I’ve got my mum, and Daisy, and--you. I don’t need anyone else.”

Her breath caught in her throat. Did he realize what he’d just said? Of course he did. He had to. It was such a simple statement, but a very big admission, coming from him. _He needed her_. “You do,” she murmured, sliding off the stool and taking a step toward him.

He glanced back over his shoulder at her. “Hmm?”

“You do,” she repeated, taking another step forward, and another, until she was right behind him. “Have me.”

His mouth opened slightly, like he wanted to speak, but instead he turned around to face her, the tips of his ears gone pink. “Yeah?”

She smiled softly. “Yeah.” She reached out to gently bump her fist against his forearm. “I’m glad we’re friends, Fitz.”

He smiled back, slowly, but it was no less genuine. “Me too.”

A moment spun itself out between them then, where Jemma stared up at Fitz and felt arrested by his gaze, unable to look away. It was times like these that she swore there was something undeniable between them, that he felt something too, something _more_ , something that she could reach out and touch and make real, if only she were brave enough.

Maybe today, right now, was a good day for it.

“Jemma?” He hadn’t taken his eyes off of her.

“Yeah?” She was drowning in them.

“Do you think we should work on Sneezy?”

She nodded, still watching him. “In a minute.”

Fitz exhaled lightly, his tongue darting out to wet his lips; her eyes followed. It was only when her gaze snapped guiltily back up to his eyes that she realized that his gaze had wandered too, and she thought: _he was looking at my mouth_. A thrill ran down her spine. She felt herself sway toward him, pulled forward by some unseen force, and he shuffled forward a step. Her chin tilted up, her eyes fluttered shut, her heart hammered loudly against her ribs--

“Jemma?”

She froze.

“You’re not just trying to get my vote for prom queen, are you?”

Her eyes flew open as dismay crashed over her like a bucket of cold water, and she stumbled back a step. Fitz remained where he was, his eyes screwed tightly shut, lips slightly parted and body radiating unsurety at the weakness of his joke.

 _Oh, god_. It all rushed in on her then, Callie’s betrayal, Raina’s threats, the bet and the lies and her feelings for Fitz and her worries about all of it, and suddenly she feared she might be sick. She couldn’t stand to be near him; everything felt too close to the surface, and she was afraid that he would be able to see right through to the truth. And then he would hate her.

“I--I, um--I need to go,” she breathed, backing away from him.

He blinked his eyes open, frowning. “Um, I kind of actually wanted to talk to you...about the whole prom thing,” he mumbled, reaching up to rub at the back of his neck.

Jemma shook her head, not really registering what he was saying. “I’m sorry, not--I really need to go.” She turned to reach for the staircase railing.

“Right now?” Fitz looked a little lost. “But you just got here.”

She stopped on the third step up. “I know. But--I--I just remembered I forgot to study for the essay questions on our Physics final, and I can’t--I can’t--”

He nodded, seemingly accepting her excuse, even though they still had a couple of weeks before their finals. “Right. Um. Can I text you later?”

The look on his face, slightly bewildered, made her relent a little. “Of course. But I really do need to--” She pointed up the stairs. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Fitz’s farewell followed her the rest of the way up the stairs, and Jemma made her exit from the house as quickly as she could. It was only once she was driving that she fully allowed the tension to release from her muscles, to acknowledge how she was physically shaking, her hands trembling as they gripped the steering wheel.

She’d almost kissed Fitz. She’d been a breath away, caught up in the moment, so close she could imagine the taste of his lips on hers, and he’d--well, he’d definitely brought her crashing back to reality. She’d spent so much time brushing off all thoughts of the bet, pretending it didn’t exist, but now she was in way over her head, and she couldn’t escape it. She had to tell Fitz the truth.

But how? How could she tell him, but make him understand that the bet didn’t matter, that what really mattered to her was _him_? How could she clear her conscience without losing him?  

-:-

Late that night, Jemma tossed and turned, her legs twisting in her sheets as nightmares plagued her dreams.

“So what’s the problem?” Raina asked, lounging on the living room sofa, sounding bored. “Did he not like his makeover, or his newfound popularity? What is it?”

“None of that matters,” Jemma said desperately, begging her--begging all of them--to understand. “Not to me. I _care_ about him. I like him just the way he is.”

Raucous laughter sounded behind her, and she spun to see Ed and Fitz standing together, half-bent at the waist and slapping at each other’s shoulders as they struggled to stay upright in their mirth. “You were right,” Fitz wheezed. “You were absolutely right. She did everything you said she would.”

She felt the blood drain from her face. “What--?”

Ed clapped Fitz on the shoulder. “I told you, man!” he cried. Then he affected an exaggerated pout and batted his eyelashes. “You’re so smart, Fitz,” he simpered in a high-pitched voice, clearly doing his worst impression of Jemma. “Tell me I’m smart, too. Aren’t I smart? Aren’t I always right? Tell me I am. Please love me.”

Jemma’s heart sank. “That’s not how I--”

But Ed and Fitz had dissolved into another fit of laughter, and she could only watch, helpless. Behind her, Raina simply raised an eyebrow, as if to say _I told you so_.

Ed swatted at Fitz’s chest. “Come on, man, deal’s a deal. Pay up.”

“Oh, right.” Fitz reached into his pocket, pulling out a small wad of cash and handing it over to Ed. Laughing, Ed started counting it.

Horrified, Jemma took a step toward them. “Fitz, what--? What are you--? I don’t understand--”

She woke up with a gasp, covered in a cold sweat as Fitz’s laugh echoed in her ears. Jemma felt sick. She rolled onto her side and curled up into a ball, taking slow, deep breaths, willing the racing of her heart to slow. It was several minutes before she felt steady enough to walk to the bathroom for a glass of water.

She took a long, hard look at herself in the mirror when she was through. A pale face with dark circles smudged beneath the eyes looked back, vestiges of her nightmare still lingering around the edges of her mind. She let out a long, slow sigh.

She was in big trouble.


	7. Chapter 7

The beginning of the next school week saw campaigning for prom court votes begin in earnest. Because she was so well-known and almost universally liked ( _almost_ , she reminded herself), Jemma didn’t have much to do in the way of winning people over. She put up a few posters around school and left it at that, preferring to let her reputation do the work for her.

If Fitz could have had his way, he would have had his name removed from the ballot entirely, but since he couldn’t, Daisy picked up the slack on his enthusiasm. She recruited several of her friends from the Art Club to make posters and flyers for him, and took great delight in hanging them up around the school. Jemma would have helped, but she felt it would have shown favoritism on her part, being on the ballot for prom queen herself. She sent Trip in her stead, who was only too happy to spend time with Daisy. They’d struck up a conversation after meeting outside school the afternoon nominations had gone out, and had hit it off instantly.

Ed, it seemed, was so confident in his chances of winning prom king that he put in no effort at all, simply letting his name alone carry him. Fitz bit back a sneer every time they passed in the hall but kept his head held high, refusing to let the other boy shake his confidence. It had already happened once; Fitz wouldn’t let it happen again.

One afternoon at lunch, Jemma glumly pushed her food around her plate, trying to work up an appetite. She couldn’t quite manage it. Raina’s threats still weighed heavily on her mind, as did the bet, and the question of how to resolve it while still maintaining a good relationship with Fitz. She thought back to the nightmare she’d had, and shuddered. Just the thought of Ed and Fitz colluding together behind her back was enough to make her stomach turn.

“Jemma, are you okay?” Bobbi asked, frowning. It was just the two of them; Hunter was out for the day with a nasty case of bronchitis, Fitz was in the lab putting the final touches on his robotics project, and Raina, of course, no longer sat with them.

Jemma considered hedging or outright lying, but Bobbi had always been very perceptive. Besides, the burden of keeping her thoughts and feelings to herself was getting to be a bit much, and Jemma knew she could trust her. She might be losing friends left and right, but Bobbi was stalwart.

“No, not really,” she murmured, and took a bite of her salad.

Bobbi gave her a sympathetic look. “Still thinking about Raina?”

“That, and the bet we made.” Jemma set down her fork and propped her elbows on the edge of the table, massaging her forehead with her fingertips. “It’s...it’s gone all wrong, and I don’t know what to do about it.”

Bobbi swallowed a bite of her sandwich. “How so? I mean, I haven’t heard you talk about it in ages, I thought you’d just forgotten about it.”

Jemma winced. “That’s sort of the point. You know Raina won’t let it go, and I’m worried…” She sighed. “I’m worried she’ll use it against me somehow.” She fell silent, watching the condensation drip on the outside of her bottled water, and considered how to phrase what she wanted to say next. “I...I like him, Bobbi. I really like him.”

When she summoned the courage to look up, Bobbi was watching her with a small smile. “I hope you’re not expecting me to be surprised,” she said, not unkindly. “You spend all your time with him and talk about him nonstop.” She reached across the table to squeeze her arm. “We’ve noticed.”

“Oh. That’s great,” Jemma mumbled, but there wasn’t much feeling behind it. She supposed she _had_ been acting rather transparently despite her best efforts. Though if it was obvious to Bobbi, she wondered if it had been just as obvious to Daisy, and what she thought about it. She sighed again, and shook her head. “It’s just--I didn’t expect to get so _involved_. I want to be honest with him, because saying nothing feels dishonest, but I’m afraid if I tell him about the bet, he’ll hate me.”

Bobbi nodded. “Because he’ll think you just used him.”

“Exactly.” Jemma picked her fork back up and poked at her salad again, her shoulders slumping. “Oh, I don’t know what to do. The prom’s next week. Maybe--maybe if I just ignore it, everything with Raina will blow over and Fitz will never have to know, and in a few years, we’ll all look back on this and have a laugh.”

Bobbi gave her a thoughtful look. “I don’t think so. I think Fitz will be upset no matter how he finds out, but I he’ll probably take it best coming from you, up front. Just be honest with him.” She smiled encouragingly. “Tell him the bet was stupid and you stopped caring about it the second you guys started talking. He might be a little angry, but you’re pretty close now, right? I’m sure he’ll understand.”

Jemma smiled weakly. She wasn’t entirely convinced, knowing how guarded and tetchy Fitz could be. “I’ll think about it,” she said. And she would. She just had to come up with the perfect way to bring it up, to tell him without hurting him or pushing him away. It might take some time, but she could do it. After all, she excelled at preparation.

-:-

When school let out for the day, Jemma headed for the parking lot with an extra skip in her step. She hadn’t made any headway on how to come clean to Fitz, but she was looking forward to spending the evening with him all the same. He’d received his first grant check the week before and was expecting an order of supplies to be waiting for him at home, and they were both anxious to get to work with their new materials.

She smiled as she rounded the end of a row of cars and spotted Fitz leaning against the side of hers, his back to her, but then she blinked in surprise when she saw that someone else was with him. An icy block of dread dropped into her stomach when she realized it was Raina.

Her steps picked up speed as she hurried toward them, Jemma’s eyes focused on the way Raina was looking up at him, her face earnest as she spoke. What was she doing? What was she playing at? Jemma was desperate to reach them, to rescue Fitz and get him as far away from Raina as possible, but before she could get there, Raina smiled sweetly and turned to stride away across the parking lot.

Jemma walked even faster. “Fitz!” she called out as she drew near.

He flinched, startling hard as he turned to face her, his arms dropping from where they’d been crossed tightly over his chest. “J-Jemma!” he cried. “Christ, you scared me.”

“What was that about?” she asked breathlessly, trying to keep her nerves in check.

Fitz frowned. “What?”

“Raina.” She gestured to where the other girl was still visible, winding her way through the parked cars in the lot. “What did she want?”

“Oh.” An odd look passed over his face. “It was, uh--she--um, nothing, really. She--she asked me for help with her science homework.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and ducked his head. “That’s all.”

Jemma gave him a searching look, trying to catch his eye, but he kept his gaze trained firmly on his feet. “That’s all?” she asked. “What did you say?”

He shifted his weight. “I told her to piss off. Obviously.” He huffed a laugh, but there was surprisingly little humor to it. “You know I’m not a tutor.”

There was something he wasn’t telling her, she knew it--his nervous tics were a dead giveaway--but she wasn’t sure she wanted to press too much for details. Asking might risk having to explain the details of her falling out with Raina and the bet, and she wasn’t ready for any of that. “Is something wrong?” she asked carefully instead, neutrally, trying to give him an out.

“Oh--no--just--” He scrunched up his nose, waving a hand next to his face. “It’s just--I got preoccupied thinking about my robotics project, you know, and then--then I was thinking about the D.W.A.R.F.s, too, and getting to work on them, and--can we stop by In ‘N Out on the way home?” He gave her a pleading look. “I’m bloody starving.”

Jemma couldn’t help but laugh, not having expected Fitz’s ravenous appetite to make an appearance so soon after lunch. “Hungry already?” she teased. “You ate just a few hours ago.”

“Yeah, but I’m a growing man, Jemma,” he groused, rubbing his stomach. “I need fuel.”

“Well.” She smiled, some of the tension easing out of her at Fitz’s return to his normal banter. “I can think of far better ways to fuel your metabolism, but--alright. Cheeseburgers won’t hurt this once.”

“Fantastic.” Fitz smiled as she walked past him to unlock her car doors, and even though it didn’t quite reach his eyes, she was willing to accept it. Maybe it was really all nothing, and Raina really had just been asking for homework help. She held grudges, and she definitely had one against her now, but she’d never been overtly malicious before. Surely she had nothing to worry about.

Did she?

Jemma wasn’t sure what to feel about anything anymore.

-:-

Over the next week, in between studying for their finals and completing end-of-semester papers, Fitz and Jemma put an enormous amount of work into the drones. The money Fitz received from winning the grant fund was a much-needed breath of life into the project, and his enthusiasm over their progress was infectious. Seeing the newest drones take flight brought Jemma a deep sense of joy and accomplishment; she knew Fitz would have something wonderfully impressive to show his professors at Stanford in the fall.

Fitz never mentioned the moment that had passed between them in the basement, the moment where they nearly kissed, and Jemma didn’t either. She thought about it a lot, though, to the point where it consumed her, nearly as much as the problem of the bet. She scrutinized every interaction between them, every glance, touch, every spoken word, trying to discern his own thoughts and feelings. Had Fitz wanted to kiss her? She thought he might have; he’d looked just as caught up in the moment as she had felt. But he hadn’t made any further moves since then, and she didn’t want to make him feel pressured, because he was so skittish. It had been such a long time since she’d had to navigate the murky waters of does-he-or-doesn’t-he, and Jemma didn’t want to make a misstep. Not with Fitz. He was far too important to her.

But there was a certain tension in the air between them, crackling with possibilities. That much she could admit to herself. Sometimes his gaze lingered a beat too long, or they sat too close on the sofa as they pored over notes on his laptop, or she squeezed his hand too hard in jubilation after a successful test. Little things, that all added up over time to big things that she couldn’t ignore, that made her stomach swoop and her heart race and her nerves tingle.

So how could she ruin all that? How could she take the beautiful, sublime thing that was slowly growing between them and raze it to the ground with the truth that her first interaction with him had been on a dare? She couldn’t. She didn’t want to. But she _had_ to. If she was to move forward with Fitz, even if they only ever remained friends, she needed to clear her conscience.

Perhaps the best way to go about doing it would be to tie it in with the prom itself. She’d been wanting to ask him to go with her for some time, but had been holding off out of a fear of rejection. It was an odd circumstance for her; usually, Jemma was very self-assured and never worried, but she wasn’t confident of her chances. She knew Fitz hadn’t planned on going to the prom before he’d been nominated, and she still wasn’t positive he was going, because he hadn’t mentioned it. (Aside from that one time as she’d ran away from him, and he hadn’t brought it up since.) Under normal circumstances, she thought she would handle rejection quite well--no harm done, brush it aside and move on--but with Fitz, the ensuing awkwardness might be too much. She didn’t want to lose his friendship.

But she could possibly kill two birds with one stone. She could tell him about the bet, and cushion the blow with a proper invite. If she thought things through, planned her words carefully, and considered all possible reactions from Fitz, she was sure she could produce a positive, if perhaps slightly awkward, outcome. _Isn’t it silly, Fitz? I was supposed to make you prom king, but you managed to get a nomination all on your own! Forget the whole bet--I’d really like to go with you...as yourself. Just as you are. If you’d like._

Something like that. The execution needed a little polish, maybe, but the barebones of it was there. It was a start.

The only thing left was working up the nerve to actually say it.

There were so many times over the course of the week that Jemma almost confessed. They would be side by side, working, or eating lunch, or reading, and the words would be on the tip of her tongue. But then Fitz would look up and break her concentration, or ask a question, or get up to go look for something in the closet, and the moment would slip away. The time never _felt_ right--until it ran out, and it was the day before the prom. Jemma had no choice left but to admit everything, as soon as possible, or risk losing out on the opportunity to go with him altogether.

-:-

Directly after school, several school clubs banded together to head to the country club hosting the prom to help get the venue set up ahead of time. As class president, Jemma was obligated to oversee preparations and make sure everything ran smoothly. Fitz had been asked by the Robotics Club sponsor to aid with the lighting and sound equipment, so they rode over together. Jemma’s fingers tapped nervously at the steering wheel as she drove. She’d decided not to tell him about the bet before working on the decorations--she would tell him on the way home. Definitely on the way home.

They split up once inside the club to focus on their separate tasks. Jemma was helping unfurl a massive strand of fairy lights when someone cleared their throat behind her.

It was Ed. “Hey, Jemma,” he said, looking uncharacteristically bashful. “I heard you still didn’t have a date to the prom, and I was wondering--I know it’s kind of late, but my dad knows the guy who runs the tuxedo rental place. I can still get a vest and tie in any color I want, so I can match your dress. You know, because we always said we’d go together, even if it was just as friends. Besides, you know we’re gonna be voted in as king and queen. We _should_ go together.”

Jemma narrowed her eyes at him. “Are things with Callie still not working out?” she asked coolly.

“What?” He laughed shortly. “Oh--no. No, that...was a mistake. Can you believe she’s even more uptight than you?”

She turned back to untangling the lights in her hands. “Is that supposed to make me want to go out with you?”

Ed laughed again. “Aw, come on, Jemma, you know I’m just joking.” He leaned in to elbow her. “You haven’t lost your sense of humor, have you?”

Jemma sighed before looking back up at him. “I’m going to have to pass,” she said. “I have other plans in mind.”

“Oh?” Ed’s eyes hardened, all hint of his previous humble attitude dropping away. “You’re not talking about Leopold Fitz, are you?”

Jemma raised her chin slightly, bristling. “What if I am?”

Something like a vicious smirk curled up the corner of his mouth. “Well, I might be wrong, but--I think he’s already taken.” Ed’s eyes shifted to focus on something past her, over her shoulder, behind her.

Fear and confusion taking root, Jemma turned to follow his gaze. Far across the room, near the makeshift stage, stood Fitz, fiddling with some cables plugged into a power strip. Next to him was Raina. She was saying something to him, smiling, and--Jemma’s stomach sank--Fitz was actually smiling in return.

_No._

Barely conscious of what she was doing, Ed completely forgotten, Jemma dropped the fairy lights she was holding and started walking across the room toward them, her heart in her throat, her mind screaming white noise. Raina couldn’t have. She _wouldn’t._ Fitz wouldn’t. He wouldn’t possibly--

“Raina!” she cried as she stalked up to them. “What do you think you’re doing?!”

Fitz jumped, nearly dropping the power strip and looking almost guilty, but Raina merely raised an eyebrow at her. “Well, hello to you, too, sister,” she said mildly.

Jemma looked between the two of them, nearly frantic. “Did she ask you to the prom?”

Fitz opened his mouth to reply, but Raina cut in over him. “Yes, I did,” she said, crossing her arms.

Jemma exhaled sharply. “But--that’s ridiculous!”

“Wait, wait.” Fitz set the power strip down, his eyebrows drawing in as he frowned. “Someone asking me to the prom is ridiculous?”

“No!” Jemma laughed, the sound stilted and awkward, and she shook her head. “No, Fitz, no, of course not, it’s--it’s just…” She gave him a beseeching look. It was now or never. “I...I thought we could go together.”

He stared at her, realization dawning in his eyes, and hope was just beginning to blossom in her heart when Raina scoffed.

“Alright, Jemma,” she snapped, “enough’s enough. This isn’t cool anymore. Fitz is a really nice guy, and I don’t want to see him hurt, so you need to stop with this whole bet thing.”

Jemma whipped around to look at Raina with wide eyes, her breath escaping in a whoosh, her hope withering and dying as her entire world narrowed down to the three of them and what Raina had just said. This wasn’t happening. Not like this, not now. Raina wasn’t purposely dragging it out into the open like this to hurt her, to willfully and maliciously destroy her. But there was a glint in her eye that said she knew exactly what she was doing.

_You’re going down, bitch._

Next to her, Fitz had gone very still. “Bet?” he asked, his voice dangerously calm.

Raina rolled her eyes and laughed shortly. “Yeah. It was so stupid, you wouldn’t believe it. Jemma said she could get any guy voted prom king, and you were the one picked, so--she thinks if she takes you to the prom, it’ll help you win.”

Jemma could barely breathe. It felt like everything she wanted was crumbling to dust around her, Raina twisting the truth for maximum damage, and she was powerless to stop it. She didn’t want to look at Fitz, afraid of what she would see, but at the same time her eyes were drawn to him. And god, it hurt. He was looking at her like she’d just ripped the rug out from beneath his feet, like she’d driven a knife between his ribs, like she’d committed the worst of betrayals.

Raina _tsked._ “You can’t just do things like this and get away with it, Jemma. He’s not a piece of meat.”

Her own words, thrown back at her. She stared at Fitz, unable to look away, feeling tears prick at her eyes, and silently begged him to understand. _Don’t listen to her. Don’t listen to her. I can explain. Please. It’s not how you think._

“Is that true?” Fitz asked, looking right back at her, his eyes hardening. “Am I a bet? Am I a bet, am I a _fucking bet_?”

The silence that echoed at the end of his angry shout proved the entire room had stopped to listen to what was going on, but Jemma hardly noticed. All she saw was Fitz, furious and heartbroken, and she knew the damage had been done. There was no coming back from this. So she did the only thing she could, even though she knew it would only make things worse. She told the unadorned truth.

“Yes,” she whispered.

Fitz recoiled as if she’d physically struck him, and Jemma desperately wanted to step after him, to grab his hands and tell him that it was much more complicated than he knew, that she regretted the entire thing and only wanted him just as he was, but she knew him. He wouldn’t listen. He’d already slammed his walls back up, judging from the way his jaw set as he looked between her and Raina, slowly backing away. Then he turned and quietly ran from the room. Raina stayed just long enough to give her a triumphant smirk before she hurried after him.

Jemma stayed where she was, frozen to the spot, a huge lump in her throat and unshed tears burning in her eyes. It was over. Done. Raina had exacted her revenge and now she’d lost the most wonderful thing in her life. The worst part was knowing she’d brought it on herself. It was her fault for accepting the bet in the first place.

Why couldn’t she just have tried talking to him again on her own after he’d rebuffed her their freshman year?

Movement at her elbow finally broke her from her haze of grief. She looked over to find Ed hovering there, looking somewhat smug.

“I’ll pick you up tomorrow night at seven,” he said, and turned to leave.

-:-

Jemma forced herself to finish her job, helping set up the prom decorations, but as soon as she was done, she swallowed her despair and panic, and texted Fitz.

_[Jemma] we need to talk  
[Jemma] please, just let me explain. it’s not what you think _

He didn’t answer. She didn’t really expect him to, not right away. She knew she’d hurt him terribly--what an understatement--and figured he was rightfully ignoring her.

_[Jemma] I know I’ve upset you, but I can explain_

It had taken her days to get him to talk to her at first; maybe the same was true again. It hurt to think about, the idea that Fitz would freeze her out completely, though perhaps it was her just desserts. But she was nothing if not persistent. Her dedication had paid off in the beginning; she hoped it would serve her well again.

But as time went on, as the evening bled into Friday morning and she still hadn’t heard from him, Jemma began to get desperate.

_[Jemma] don’t listen to Raina, please, she only wants to_

She backspaced on that text in a hurry, feeling her cheeks burn. No matter how much she wanted to, she couldn’t badmouth Raina in her attempts to get Fitz to talk to her. It would only lower her to the other girl’s level and make her just as petty. She didn’t want that.

_[Jemma] please, Fitz, just talk to me_   
_[Jemma] five minutes, that’s all I ask, please_   
_[Jemma] I can explain everything. I never wanted to hurt you_

It was early in the afternoon when her phone finally buzzed back. She dove across her bed to reach for it where it laid on her nightstand, hands shaking as she swiped her thumb across the screen.

_[Fitz] stop texting him, asshole_

She slowly sat down on the edge of the bed, staring at her phone screen in stunned disbelief. It was Daisy; it had to be. The protectiveness and the choice of pronouns all pointed to that logical conclusion. That meant Daisy was with him, then, and now Daisy hated her, too.

She set her phone back down on the table and pressed her face into her hands, finally letting the tears fall. Her shoulders shook as she sobbed, and she didn’t think she had ever felt so low, so utterly wretched. She’d messed up so completely. Fitz hated her so much he couldn’t even tell her to shove off himself; he had to have someone else do it for him.

But Jemma still couldn’t bring herself to blame him. So much of her despair was directed inward, at herself. She never should have accepted the bet. She should have just left him alone. She never would have known how it felt to finally discover her true match, someone she fit alongside perfectly, sure, but was it worth the pain and anguish she felt now?

Now, everything was ruined, and she didn’t know if she could ever fix it.


	8. Chapter 8

“Thank you for letting me tag along,” Jemma said quietly, turning away from checking her hair in the entryway mirror one last time. “I really appreciate it.”

“Oh, Jemma, you’re not _tagging along_ ,” Bobbi reassured her, reaching out to squeeze her shoulders. “We would have been hanging out with you anyway, except now it’s just...one less person.”

Jemma bit her lip and looked down, feeling yet another swell of sadness at the reminder of the direction her social life had taken. Once she’d realized that Fitz wasn’t going to answer her texts, she’d called off going to the prom altogether, her heart no longer in it. Bobbi had convinced her to reconsider, though, saying she could still have fun with them, and besides, it would be a shame to waste the money she’d spent on her dress. Jemma didn’t feel like she deserved a night spent all dolled up, but Bobbi had been very persuasive. She just pretended the scant possibility of seeing Fitz had nothing to do with her decision.

“Is Trip still taking Daisy?” Hunter asked, stepping past her to look in the mirror and adjust his tie. “Because if she dumped him as part of this whole mess, I know Trip won’t mind dancing with Jemma at least once.” He tugged at the collar of his crisp white shirt. “Well, he probably wouldn’t mind dancing with her anyway, but you know what I mean.”

Bobbi slipped her phone into her clutch. “No, they’re still going together. He said she was a little angry at first because he knew about the bet, but he managed to talk her through it. I think they’re okay. He told me they’d meet us there.”

“At least _someone’s_ getting a happy ending out of this,” Jemma murmured, blinking against the threat of more tears.

“Hey. Chin up, love.” Hunter lightly nudged her with his elbow. “We’ll get everything sorted, I promise. We’ll show up, and Fitz will see how smashing you look, and he’ll forget he was ever mad at you.”

Jemma laughed wetly and looked back down, plucking at the skirt of her dress. “Somehow, I don’t think that will be enough,” she said weakly, attempting to joke. “Besides, I doubt he’ll even be there.”

“Oh, he will be.” Hunter grinned. “If I know anything, it’s male ego, and he’ll be too curious to see whether or not he wins prom king not to show. At least, he _better_ show up, considering I nominated him and all.”

Jemma looked up in shock, her mouth falling open. “ _You’re_ the one who nominated him?”

Hunter shrugged. “Yeah, of course.”

“But why?”

He shrugged again. “Well, it wasn’t because of the bet, I didn’t give a shit about that, and I knew you didn’t, either. I just thought he was an okay bloke. And, after the way he stood up to Ed, I thought maybe he deserved it.” He grinned again. “It goes back to the male ego. I thought I’d give his a boost.”

Jemma looked over to Bobbi. “Did you know about this?”

Bobbi held her hands up. “Nope. You know he likes to hide his soft spots from me.” But she was smiling warmly as she stepped over to kiss him on the cheek, and Hunter looked pleased to be on the receiving end of her affection. “Are we ready to go? If we wait too much longer, it’ll start without us.”

“I thought we were aiming for ‘fashionably late’,” Hunter laughed, but he walked over to the front door to open it and let the girls pass through ahead of him.

Jemma drove separately to the country club (“Because you never know what might happen,” Hunter had reasoned), and she spent the time alone shoring up her nerves. She still doubted Fitz would show up, but she needed to be prepared for any and all possible outcomes. She was determined to have at least a little fun, but she knew the chances were high that her night would end in nothing but disappointment and heartache.

The prom was in full swing by the time they arrived, lights low and bass pulsing. A sizeable crowd was already out on the dance floor, moving to the beat of the music, and even more were spread out across the tables that lined the main area. Jemma waited while Hunter and Bobbi had their picture taken, then joined them at the buffet for a glass of punch. They crowd watched while they drank, making observations on the music selection and the different dresses they saw, until they’d drained their cups.

“Do you mind if Hunter and I go dance for a bit?” Bobbi asked.

“No, go ahead,” Jemma said. When Bobbi gave her a searching look, trying to gauge her sincerity, she added, “I’ll be fine. I can always find Trip if I need to. Go have fun.”

“If you’re sure,” Bobbi replied. “Go look for Fitz, see if you can get a dance out of him.” She squeezed her hand. “Text me if you need me.”

With that, Bobbi took Hunter’s hand, and they disappeared off into the throng of people jumping and swaying on the dance floor. Jemma watched them go with a faint sinking feeling. Despite what she’d said, she wasn’t sure she wanted to seek out Trip; he was with Daisy, and she was sure she was the last person Daisy wanted to see right now. She didn’t want to make things awkward for Trip.

She took a moment to consider the irony that popular, outgoing Jemma Simmons was completely dateless and alone at her senior prom, and laughed quietly, humorlessly to herself. How had things come this?

Pride, she told herself. Pride cometh before the fall.

Nevertheless, she made her way to one side of the dance floor, looking for anyone who resembled Fitz. It was hard to distinguish who was who, given the low lighting and the crush of bodies, but she carefully picked her way through the crowd, eyes alert.

Then her breath caught in her throat. There he was, near the edge of the dance floor, dancing with--her stomach twisted--Raina. Unlike most of the men there, he wasn’t wearing a tux, but rather a dark suit with a white dress shirt and black skinny tie, evidence of his late decision to attend. Raina was bouncing boisterously to the music, but Fitz was moving rather awkwardly, clearly self-conscious. Her heart went out to him, a confusing mix of longing and despair. It should have been _her_ next to him, her dancing with him, her making him laugh and smile--

She sighed and considered her options. She wanted to speak to him, but she didn’t want to cause a scene and wouldn’t put it past Raina to start one if she approached them. But would she get another opportunity? She couldn’t stalk them for the entirety of the prom; that would just be weird. Maybe Bobbi’s advice was best--she should just cut in and ask for a dance, chin held high, projecting all the confidence she didn’t feel.

Yes, that would have to do. She squared her shoulders and started toward them, but was immediately cut off by a tall figure blocking her path.

It was Ed. “Did you drive yourself here?” he asked. “I said I’d pick you up!”

Jemma gaped at him. “Um--”

“Oh well, it doesn’t matter, I forgive you.” He grabbed her hand. “Come on, dance with me.”

“Ed--” Her eyes slid past him, to where Fitz and Raina were still dancing, but Ed was pulling her away from them, deeper into the crowd. She went without much protest, her confidence and thoughts in turmoil. They went through several songs that way, Jemma continually ducking and bobbing around Ed, trying to keep Fitz in her line of sight, trying to maneuver them closer. If Ed noticed that she wasn’t fully into dancing with him, he didn’t comment, or he didn’t care.

Eventually the DJ segued into a slower song, and all around them couples stopped moshing to ease into gentle sways with their partners. Jemma swallowed uncomfortably as Ed pulled her in, settling his hands at her waist. Dancing with him had once felt so natural and right, _being_ with him had felt right, but now she wished she was anywhere else but with him, and she considered telling him she was tired and wanted to sit down. She bit her lip and looked past his shoulder, preparing herself for the sight of Fitz dancing with Raina, holding her close.

Instead, she saw them standing apart. Raina was looking up at him, talking; then she briefly touched his arm before turning and walking away. Fitz had been listening intently, but as soon as she was gone, his shoulders sagged and his head drooped. He looked miserable.

Jemma’s heart panged sharply.

He shoved his hands in his trouser pockets and hovered at the edge of the dance floor for a moment, seemingly unsure of what to do, before turning and going to sit at the nearest empty table. He reached out to fiddle with a party favor that had been left there, flicking the ends of the trailing ribbons with his fingers. Then he set it down and looked up.

Their eyes met.

Jemma gasped softly, feeling pinned in place by the weight of his stare. His hurt was palpable even across the distance between them, and she felt choked by the guilt and shame that welled up within her. Despite the pain she had wrought, though, she still felt pulled toward him--needed to be near him--and she realized that this was her chance. He was alone; she could speak to him without Raina nearby, and hopefully make her case without creating unnecessary drama. Her hands slipped down off of Ed’s shoulders, and she took a step away from him.

But Fitz broke her gaze, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed and looked down. The moment was lost. Ed reached out to pull her back closer to him and Jemma, feeling utterly defeated, let him.

-:-

In the ladies’ restroom, Raina pulled a plastic key card from her clutch and held it up for the other girls gathered to see. “Alright, ladies, here it is,” she said. “Room number 409 at the Marriott is going to become a historical landmark later tonight.”

Next to her, Callie laughed as she rinsed her hands in the sink. “Why, are you getting murdered there?”

Raina rolled her eyes and huffed a laugh in return. “ _No_ , silly. I’m _this_ close to sealing the deal. He’s eating up every word I say, it’s pathetic. I’ve got him right where I want him.”

Callie stretched across the counter to grab a few paper towels to dry her hands with. “I know how you like your bets, so I’m tempted to offer one, but I’m going to have to resist.” She threw her trash away and gave Raina a dry look. “Leo Fitz is _not_ going to have sex with you.”

She turned to leave. Raina scowled, dropping the key card back into her clutch, and looked at the girl who had just taken Callie’s spot at the sinks. “She’s wrong,” she said. “It’s definitely happening. He’d be insane not to.”

The girl snickered quietly to herself and shook her head, drying her hands and making a hasty exit.

Raina’s expression darkened even further. “He better,” she muttered, this time to no one in particular. “I shelled out three hundred bucks for that room.” Then she, too, left the restroom.

The room was silent and still for all of a moment, until one of the stall doors quietly unlatched and Daisy slowly stepped out. Her eyes were wide with shock at what she had just overheard. Glancing both ways to make sure she was alone, she gathered her skirt in one hand and hurried from the restroom, back out onto the main floor. Trip needed to know what Raina was up to, immediately.

-:-

The DJ stopped the music as a spotlight came to life onstage, illuminating Principal Coulson as he struggled to adjust the height on the microphone. He winced a little as he got some feedback, but after some fiddling from the person manning the soundboard, it worked fine.

“Alright, it’s time to get started with the presentation of this year’s prom court,” Coulson said. “I know everyone’s been looking forward to that.”

A small smattering of cheers and applause rippled through the crowd, causing Coulson to smile briefly. Jemma folded her hands in front of her, breathing in and trying to smooth away a faint sense of nerves. Even though the matter of being elected prom queen didn’t matter that much to her, it was only natural to feel a little apprehensive now that it was time for the results of the vote. Next to her, Ed was practically vibrating in excitement.

“We’ll start with the announcement of prom king,” Coulson said. “In the closest vote in this school’s history, fifty-four percent to forty-six percent, your prom king is--” He paused to look at the sheet of paper he was holding. “Ed Huntington.”

“Yes!” Ed pumped a fist in victory before striding forward toward the stage to claim his crown. A large round of applause followed him, but there were a healthy amount of boos too, which surprised Jemma. She’d sincerely wanted Fitz to win, but she hadn’t expected him to have that much support. Knowing the vote had been so close filled her with a bittersweet sense of pride--and _not_ because she had come so close to winning the bet.

Onstage, Ed got his crown settled on his head before beaming brightly out at the crowd. Perhaps the right person had won after all, though, Jemma thought. It was hard to imagine Fitz looking anywhere near as happy up in front of a crowd, not for something as superfluous as this. Accepting an award for a project, however, maybe for the D.W.A.R.F.s--now that was a different story. She stood on her tip-toes, craning her neck to try and find Fitz amongst her fellow classmates, but she couldn’t see him.

“And now, for your prom queen,” Coulson continued. “Well, no surprise here. Jemma Simmons!”

Jemma was thankful that this time, she didn’t hear any boos or jeers as she made her way to the stage. She accepted her crown with a smile, reaching up a hand to make sure it was steady on her head, and took her spot next to Ed. She even managed to keep her smile in place when he leaned down to plant a firm kiss on her cheek. For the millionth time, she wished it were Fitz, but wishing would get her nowhere.

Just as Coulson passed her the microphone for a short speech, she heard a scuffle down at the foot of the stage.

“ _Jemma!_ ”

She looked down to the side. Clustered at the edge of the steps leading up to the stage were Trip, Daisy, Bobbi, and Hunter, all looking very concerned. When she caught their eye, they gestured frantically for her to come to them. Caught off-guard, she turned back to look out across the crowd and fumbled for a way out.

“Um--I--thank you,” she said, managing to keep her voice even despite the worry that seeing her friends look so alarmed had produced. “Thank you so much. It’s an honor to be your prom queen.” Then she thrust the microphone at Ed, who--along with Coulson--gave her a strange look, not expecting her speech to be so short. Then Ed shrugged and tapped on the mic.

“Well, first I’d like to thank everyone who voted for me. You made the right decision. As for the rest of you…”

His voice faded into the background as Jemma hurried off the stage. Bobbi, Hunter, and Trip stepped back to make room for her as she came off the bottom step. “What is it?” Jemma demanded, unable to keep the anxiety from her voice. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s Fitz,” Trip said, his thumbs rubbing circles into Daisy’s shoulders. She was clearly distressed, clutching her phone so tightly her knuckles were white. “Go on, Daisy, tell her what you heard.”

“Raina,” Daisy said unhappily. “I heard her in the bathroom. She--she’s got a hotel room, she’s planning on taking Fitz there and--she’s going to try to sleep with him.” Her face twisted even more. “Or force him to.”

“Oh god.” Horror washed through her, and Jemma understood why they’d called her off the stage. “I need--I need my phone.” She pushed past them to head for the table where she and Bobbi had left their clutches, her mind racing, only one thought clear: she had to find Fitz.

“You can try,” Daisy said, following her, “but I don’t know if it’ll work. I’ve been calling and texting him for a solid five minutes and he hasn’t answered. Trip even tried texting Raina, but she didn’t answer either.”

They reached the table and Jemma grabbed her clutch, tearing it open and pulling her phone out. Her hands shook as she brought her messaging app up and fired off a quick text to Fitz, ignoring the last angry text she’d received from Daisy.

_[Jemma] Fitz please please talk to me_

“We tried looking for them, too,” Bobbi said as she and Hunter brought up the rear. “But we can’t find them. They might have already left.”

 _[Jemma] please Fitz, it’s an emergency_  

“No, no, no,” Jemma murmured, and tabbed over to her phone’s browser and map. Then she took a deep breath and looked up. “I’m going to go look for them. I’ll call every hotel in the city if I have to, and ask if she’s booked there. Until he answers his phone, it’s the only thing I can think of, and I don’t--I don’t want to wait.”

Trip frowned. “Are you sure that’s what you want to do?”

Jemma exhaled shakily, then nodded. “Yes. I’m sure.”

“If it helps, Raina said she spent a _lot_ of money on the room, so just stick to the fancy places,” Daisy offered grimly.

“Do you want one of us to come with you?” Bobbi asked.

Jemma considered it for a moment, then shook her head. “No. Stay here just in case he hasn’t left, and text me if you find him.” She picked up her clutch and started to head for the door, but Daisy stopped her with a hand on her arm.

“Look,” she said, looking down at the ground. “I’m sorry I sent you that nasty text. It’s just, he was so upset, and the phone buzzing was making it worse, and…” She sighed. Jemma swallowed against the lump forming in her throat. “Trip told me everything. I still think it was really shitty to start with, but...I know now that you really care about him. Good luck finding him, okay?”

Jemma nodded. “I never meant to hurt him,” she whispered tearfully.

“I know,” Daisy said, nodding back, and squeezed her arm.

“Keep us updated,” Trip added.

Jemma nodded again, and turned to leave the country club as fast as she could. She didn’t have any time to waste.


	9. Chapter 9

Once she reached her car, Jemma spent several panic-stricken moments looking up and then calling the phone numbers of every nice hotel in the Ventura area, her frustration and dread mounting when she came up empty-handed every time. Then she called the not-so-nice hotels, just in case, with the same results. Wanting to be thorough, she extended her search out to Oxnard, but still, she found nothing. She even considered the possibility that Raina had gone all the way to greater Los Angeles, but she found it highly unlikely. It was a long drive, and the traffic wouldn’t be worth it.

Another possibility was that Raina had booked the room using a fake ID--more likely, considering she wasn’t old enough to reserve a room on her own. Which meant that searching for a reservation using her real name was absolutely useless.

Jemma sighed wearily, closing her eyes and pressing her hand to her forehead. Worry was nearly consuming her, but she forced herself to stay calm and think rationally. Rash actions wouldn’t do anyone any favors now.

Reluctantly, she considered yet another possibility. What if Fitz didn’t want to be found? He was a legal adult, and didn’t owe her anything...he could engage in whatever activities he wanted to with Raina, even the ones that hurt her to think about. But would the fallout be worth it? Who knew what horrible lies and half-truths Raina would be waiting to spread come Monday?

The thought was enough to flag her determination, her heart sinking in sadness, but only for a moment. She was confident that she knew Fitz, knew how he operated, and she was sure he wouldn’t give in to any sort of casual tryst, no matter how persuasive Raina might be. Sitting up straighter, she switched back over to her messaging app to send a text to Trip.

_[Jemma] I still haven’t found anything. going to his house now to wait on him_

She didn’t have to wait long for a response.

_[Trip] nothing here either. good luck, send us an update when you can_

Nodding to herself, she slipped her phone back into her clutch before switching on the ignition to her car and throwing the gear into drive.

-:-

She’d been expecting it, but Jemma was still a little abashed at the look of shock on Mrs. Fitz’s face when she opened the door to find her standing on their front stoop.

“Jemma!” she cried, taking in her downcast face and meek posture with wide eyes. “This is a surprise. I’m sorry, but Leo isn’t here. He’s at the prom...which I thought you would be at, too.”

“I know,” Jemma replied quickly. “And I was. But…” How could she explain what had happened without alarming her? “I’ve been looking for him, and I can’t get ahold of him, and I was worried, so I thought--I could just wait here. If it’s alright with you.”

Mrs. Fitz gave her a thoughtful look. “You know,” she said after a pause, “Leo wasn’t even planning on going tonight. But when a pretty young lady showed up earlier insisting that he go with her, I was surprised, even a little disappointed, that it wasn’t you.”

Jemma swallowed and looked down, feeling yet another wave of guilt and shame wash over her. Fitz’s mother was just another person she’d managed to fail in this entire disaster. “I know,” she said again, her voice a near-whisper. Then she looked back up. “I...I made a mistake. I hurt him, badly. I didn’t mean to, but I did, and I--” She stopped, taking in a deep breath; tears were threatening again. “I wanted it to be me with him tonight. I’d like a chance to make things right. Please...just let me talk to him. I won’t be any trouble. If he gets here and he doesn’t want to see me, I’ll leave.”

Mrs. Fitz gave her another considering look, and Jemma tried not to fidget beneath her stare. Then she nodded and stepped back, opening the door wider so she could enter. “Of course, love, come on in.” As Jemma walked past her, head bowed, she added, “Has Leo really not been answering his phone?”

“No,” Jemma replied. “Several of us have been trying for almost an hour.”

She frowned. “That’s not really like him. But then again, he can get in one of his moods sometimes…” She shook her head. “Can I get you anything while you wait? Tea, perhaps?”

Jemma started to politely decline, but then she reconsidered. Some tea might calm her nerves, and give her something to focus on. “Yes, please, some tea would be lovely,” she said, managing a small smile.

She waited in the kitchen while Mrs. Fitz prepared the tea, and once her cup was done, they took it out to the living room to sit on the sofa. They made small talk; Mrs. Fitz complimented her on her dress and her hair, asked her generic questions about the prom, and congratulated her on being voted prom queen. Jemma sipped slowly on her tea and tried not to think too much about where Fitz was and what he was doing.

Roughly thirty minutes passed--Jemma knew, because she kept checking the time on her phone--before they heard the sound of a key turning in the front door’s lock. They both stood from the sofa, Jemma’s stomach churning.

“Mum?” Fitz called out over the sound of the door opening. “I’m home.”

Mrs. Fitz looked back at her before taking a few steps toward the entryway. “Leo? Did you have a good time?”

“Eh, yeah...it was alright.” The door shut, and his footsteps came closer. “But I think I’m just gonna go upstairs, I’m really tired and…”

He trailed off as he came around the corner into the living room and saw Jemma standing behind his mother, her hands twisting together anxiously at her waist. He stared at her for an extended moment, his expression unreadable, until Mrs. Fitz quietly cleared her throat.

“I’m sure you two have a lot to talk about,” she said. “I’ll be upstairs if you need me.” She gently touched Fitz’s shoulder before moving past him to leave the room.

But Fitz didn’t look inclined to speak. As soon as they were alone, he cut his gaze away from her, stuffing his hands into his trouser pockets and shifting his weight uneasily from foot to foot. Jemma felt suffocated by his silence, all the questions she wanted to ask jumbling together in her head. She’d told herself that she would let him speak first, as it was the least she could do, but the way his body language screamed discomfort wasn’t doing anything to dispel the nightmare scenarios her mind had conjured up on her drive over. She had to know. “Are you okay?” she blurted, unable to disguise her worry.

His eyebrows drew together slightly. “I’m fine,” he mumbled shortly, without looking up from his shoes.

That didn’t inspire confidence, either. “We’ve been trying to text you,” she added, her words rushing together. “But you haven’t been answering, so we didn’t know if--if--”

“Yeah, um.” Fitz reached up to rub a finger along the side of his nose. “My battery died. Accidentally let it run down because I got, er--distracted.”

Jemma’s face paled. “Distracted?”

He finally glanced up at her. “Yeah. Earlier today. Before, um--” He looked away again. “Before everything.”

Jemma couldn’t help the sigh of relief that escaped her then, her shoulders relaxing slightly. “So--Raina--she didn’t--”

Fitz shook his head. “Nothing happened,” he said. “I, uh...it just took me a little while to figure out what she was really after.”

The relief she’d felt evaporated like mist beneath the morning sun, chased away by the renewed stiffness of his stance. What was his definition of ‘nothing’? What had Raina done to him? What had she _tried_ to do? How far had she gotten? All of Jemma’s fears collided together and stuck in her throat, rendering her speechless and nauseated. When a moment had passed and she still hadn’t replied--just stared at him in helpless horror--Fitz rolled his eyes.

“We had it out in the parking lot of the hotel,” he explained, scuffing the toe of his shoe against the carpet. “She, ah, called me...a lot of very rude names.” His eyes flicked briefly back up to hers. “Said I was a stuck-up prude who’d just lost his only chance at action because I’d never be able to get it anywhere else. She said she was doing me a _favor._ ”

Jemma’s hands clenched into fists. Of _course_ Raina had gone into full aggro mode when he refused to play along. She was used to getting what she wanted.

“I’ve never seen someone get so _angry_ over being told no, it was like...she said she’d destroy me, that I was through socially.” He huffed a sardonic laugh. “Like I care about that crap.”

Jemma inhaled. “How did you get home…?”

“Oh, uh--I walked over to the bar next door and used their phone to call a cab. Good thing I had some cash on me.”

She closed her eyes and allowed herself to truly feel relief this time. Fitz hadn’t been physically hurt or abused. He was okay. Raina might have a multitude of horrible untruths to spread about him by Monday, but like he said, he didn’t care about that. She was certain he could rise above it.

“I was so worried,” she said, opening her eyes and taking a step forward. “I tried looking everywhere for you, I texted, called, but I couldn’t--”

“Jemma.”

She stopped, blinking up at him. He was finally looking straight at her, and his eyes were tired, hurt, his posture still distrustful. It was so much like the way he’d acted when she first spoke to him all those weeks ago that her stomach clenched in despair. She’d made him look that way. It was all her fault.

Fitz sighed. “Why did you come here?”

Oh, there were so many reasons why. Because she was worried, because she was sorry, because she was scared. Because she desperately wanted to make things right, and felt in her bones that this was her last chance. If she couldn’t win his forgiveness now, they were done for.

“You know why,” she whispered.

Fitz looked away again, biting his lip and nodding to himself as he seemed to consider her answer. Eventually, he pulled his hands from his pockets and walked past the sofa to the door leading to the back patio. “We should probably go outside,” he muttered as he turned the locks and opened the door.

Jemma followed quietly, her head down, concerned that he was taking her outside because they were about to have a truly terrible argument and he didn’t want his mother to hear. Stepping out into the warm night air, she thought, maybe, it was only what she deserved. But she had to plead her case. She waited, her nerves buzzing with anxious energy, until Fitz shut the door behind them and turned back to her.

“Fitz, please, let me--”

“Jemma, I need to--”

They both stopped short this time, taken aback by their rush to talk over each other. Then Jemma took a deep breath, preparing to launch into her well-rehearsed plea, but Fitz held up a hand to stop her.

“Jemma,” he said, “just...don’t. I--I need to get this off my chest and you, uh, you know I’m not--good at this. So. Just let me talk.”

The fire abruptly went out of her at how unhappy he looked. Jemma could only nod, looking back down and clasping her hands at her waist as dread filled her. Here it came, all of his hurt and anger, his sure rejection and dismissal.

Fitz swallowed several times, twisting his thumb into the opposite palm, before looking back up at her. “I...I let you in,” he said, his voice raw with emotion. “I told you I don’t like people, but I let you in anyway, because...because I’d always thought that maybe we’d get along, you know, if I wasn’t _me_ and you weren’t _you_...because--I wanted to believe that…” He let out a shuddering breath. “But it was just a joke for you, a laugh. I should have _known_ \--”

“No,” she said quickly, anguished, shaking her head as tears filled her eyes. “ _No_.”

He crossed his arms and leveled her with a stare that was more heartbroken than angry. “I thought we were friends. I thought--maybe--we were...more than that. So was it all a lie? Everything you said, all that we did...was any of it even real?”

“ _Yes_.” It was barely a whisper, heavy with the weight of her remorse as she struggled to hold back her tears. “Yes, it was. I--it might not have been the best of intentions at first, but I meant everything I’ve ever said to you, _everything_...I wanted to tell you about the bet. I almost did, so many times. That it was stupid and I didn’t care about it anymore, that I didn’t even care so much about the drones, I just cared about _you_...but I was so afraid you’d hate me.” She sniffled, blinking rapidly. “Except now you do anyway. I’m so sorry, Fitz. I’ve hurt you, and…”

She trailed off, at a loss as to fully express the depth of her guilt and regret, and hugged her arms around her stomach. Fitz was still watching her, his expression hard to read again.

“I don’t hate you,” he said quietly. When she choked on a disbelieving scoff, he uncrossed his arms. “I don’t,” he repeated. “I _want_ to, but…” He shrugged. “I can’t.”

The admission dared to spark hope in Jemma’s heart. “Why not?” she asked.

He bit his lip and glanced away again. “What was the bet even for?” he asked after a pause, instead of answering her. “What did you lose?”

“You,” Jemma replied simply, looking up at him. “My best friend.”

Fitz stared at her.

“You’ve taught me a lot,” she added, steeling her courage to keep looking him in the eye. This was it: her final appeal, her last chance to convince him she cared. “You taught me that it was okay to just be me, that I don’t have to act a certain way just for people to accept me. That I don’t have to dial back my intelligence for anyone, that I don’t have to settle for something lesser, because--I deserve someone who truly likes me for me. _All_ of me. You make me want to be better--the best version of myself that I can be. And I want to be all of that, and more. For...for me. And for you.”

Fitz swallowed and took in a slow, measured breath. Silence settled over them as he looked away again, pacing, deliberating; Jemma folded her hands in front of her and waited for him to come to a decision.  

Finally, he turned back to her. “You know, I only went with Raina because I was hoping I’d see you.”

Jemma inhaled. “Really?”

“Yeah.” He nodded, shifting his weight. “Even though…” He sighed, then shook his head; evidently what he had been about to say wasn’t worth it. “So...you left your prom, for me.” His eyebrow arched in a ghost of his usual dry humor. “You left Milton.”

Jemma laughed wetly. “‘Prom queen’ is just a title, Fitz. It doesn’t really matter. Neither does--Milton. You’re more important to me, anyway.”

At that--either because of her admission, or using Ed’s given name--a weight seemed to lift from Fitz’s eyes. “Yeah?”

She braved a smile for him. “Yeah.”

He nodded again, the faintest of smiles tugging at his own lips. “Right. Okay...so...what now?”

Jemma’s heart leapt. If Fitz was willing to talk, willing to give her this open-ended question, it was possible he was giving her a second chance. Trying not to let her growing hope show too much, she gave a small shrug. “I don’t know,” she said. “It’s up to you. But if you’ll let me...maybe we could start over.” She bit her lip. “If you want.”

Fitz shook his head. “I don’t want to start over.” Jemma’s stomach abruptly plummeted, but then--hesitantly, as if he was second-guessing himself--he held out a hand to her. “I think...can I--would you like to, um, dance?”

Surprised, relieved, and a bit bemused, Jemma smiled as she slipped her hand into his. Fitz smiled back nervously and pulled her to him, settling his free hand carefully against her waist while hers lighted on his shoulder. Then he eased them into a slow side-to-side step, swaying to the beat of a song only he could hear. Looking into his eyes, Jemma found herself captivated by the sudden softness of his gaze. It wasn’t a way he’d ever looked at her before, and it took her breath away.

They danced in silence for a moment, loose and unhurried, until Fitz ducked his head a little. “You look beautiful,” he murmured, rubbing his thumb over the knuckles of the hand he was holding. “I didn’t get to tell you, before.”

Jemma looked down as she felt her cheeks heat up, feeling shy for perhaps the first time in her life. “Fitz, I’ve been crying.”

He shrugged lightly. “Doesn’t make it untrue.”

She couldn’t contain her smile. Looking back up, she squeezed his shoulder. “You look pretty handsome yourself.”

Fitz’s smile turned lopsided; the warmth of it made her stomach do a little flip. “Yeah, sometimes I clean up okay,” he said with far more bravado than he clearly felt. There was still a hint of sadness in his eyes, but he was mostly relaxed now as he held her, and Jemma was profoundly grateful for it. She knew things weren’t completely mended between them--his hurt couldn’t vanish all in an instant--but this was definitely progress.

Wanting to be nearer, Jemma stepped more into his space; Fitz answered by slipping his arm around her lower back, snugging her just a little closer. His eyes were faintly wide, as if he were afraid she’d protest his move, but when she only smiled at him, he relaxed even more, his hold on her growing more sure.

She felt that pull again, the magnetism she’d felt that day in his basement, the inexorable draw into his orbit. This time, she let herself fully surrender to it. When his forehead came to rest against hers as they danced, her eyes fluttered shut and she drank in the sensation of him being so, so close, closer than he’d ever been. When her nose bumped gently alongside his, she revelled in the scent of him, soap and a hint of cologne, and thrilled at the fan of his breath over her lips. Every nerve inside her felt alive, every point of contact between them hyper-sensitive, thrumming with possibility. If she tilted her face just so, just a fraction, she could kiss him--but she held back. She wanted to let him decide, as a show of trust, to let it be his decision to take that last step.

The moment hung suspended between them, both almost afraid to breathe, until Fitz finally leaned in and caught her lips with his in the softest, sweetest of kisses.

Jemma felt a warm, delighted rush sweep through her veins as she all but melted into him, responding in kind. She tried to infuse it with all of her heartfelt apologies, but there was nothing bittersweet about the way Fitz kissed her; it was longing, pure and simple, growing into cautious certainty.

They stopped their gentle sway as Fitz kissed her again, still sweet, letting go of her hand in order to lightly cup her jaw. She could feel his fingers trembling against her skin, and her heart softened; he was nervous. It was possible this was his first kiss. Flooded with a sudden tenderness she didn’t expect, Jemma slid a hand into his hair and pressed closer, letting him know that she wanted this, wanted him, and wanted it to be perfect.

When they broke the kiss, they stayed close, breathing each other in, willing the racing of their hearts to slow. Then Jemma leaned back just far enough to look at him, and found that Fitz was smiling bashfully. She couldn’t help but smile in return, soaking in the brush of his thumb against the small of her back, feeling bright and giddy and hopeful for something more. Maybe this was forgiveness. Maybe it was Fitz wanting a future with her included more than how much she’d hurt him. Whatever it was, she didn’t want to argue about it. Instead, her smile widened before she stepped back in to kiss him again, sighing happily as both his arms went around her, holding her tight.    

But before it had a chance to go anywhere, to deepen or heat up or anything else, they heard the sound of a car pulling into the driveway at the front of the house, followed by the doors opening and shutting and voices that were all too familiar. Jemma pulled away with a gasp.

“Oh no,” she cried. “I didn’t text Trip to tell him that I found you.”

Fitz looked toward the front yard, where they could still hear Trip and Daisy talking, and frowned. “And obviously my phone’s dead, so Daisy hasn’t…” He sighed, then let go of her shoulders to take her hand in his. “Come on.”

Jemma let him walk her over to the side gate leading out of the back yard, holding up her skirt with her free hand so she wouldn’t trip over it. Fitz let her go through first, then shut the gate behind them. Together, they headed around the side of the house to the driveway.

Trip and Daisy were still talking, voices overlapping as they headed up the front walk toward the door. Fitz stepped out of the shadow of the house and called out to them. “Daisy?”

She stopped in her tracks, Trip colliding into her back, and her head whipped around towards them. “Fitz!” she hissed, trying to keep her voice level down due to the late hour. “Do you not know how to answer your damn phone?!”

Fitz grimaced, holding his hands up to ward her off as she stalked toward them. “Sorry! I couldn’t, my--my phone died, it wasn’t just you, no one could get in touch with me--”

“And I left my phone inside,” Jemma added contritely. “And when he got home, I just--I forgot, I’m sorry too--”

Daisy squinted at them. “What are you doing outside in the dark, anyway?” Her mouth dropped open slightly. “Were you two making out?”

“No--” Fitz started, but both he and Jemma glanced at each other, wide-eyed, and that was all the evidence Daisy needed.

“Oh my god!” she shrieked. “You were!”

“ _Daisy!_ ” Fitz stepped forward, flapping his hands like he wanted to shush her, and Trip--who was busy tapping at his phone--elbowed her sharply, though he was smiling widely.

Jemma went up on the balls of her feet, trying to look at Trip’s phone. “What are you doing?”

“Oh, me?” Trip glanced up at her before going back to his phone. “I’m texting Bobbi to let her know what’s up before she and Hunter end up here, and this turns into a real party. Which I wouldn’t mind, but I don’t think Fitz’s mom will be down for it.” He tapped one last time at his phone with a flourish, then turned his grin on them. “So, what’s the deal here? Are you guys good?”

“Yeah,” Daisy chimed in, smiling just as wide. “I mean, if you guys were making out, something’s gone right, but seriously...are you two okay?”

Jemma looked up at Fitz, not wanting to answer for him, and found that he had turned to look at her as well. A soft smile bloomed on his face. Then he reached out to slip his arm around her shoulders, carefully pulling her in against his side. “Yeah,” he said, never taking his eyes off her face. “Yeah, I think we will be.”

Looking into his eyes, seeing the warmth there she thought she’d lost, Jemma believed they would be, too.


	10. Chapter 10

_Six Months Later_

Jemma shivered as a brisk wind cut through the fabric of her sweater, but it did nothing to quell the excitement singing through her veins as she walked across campus. Next to her, Fitz was much the same, joy rolling off of him in waves, his hand flexing around the handle of the steel briefcase he was carrying.

They kept shooting each other glances as they hurried toward Fitz’s dorm, smiles tugging at their lips. It was difficult to contain their happiness until they were alone, but Jemma knew how much Fitz disliked creating a scene in public.

His leg jiggled as they rode the elevator up to his floor, and his hand shook slightly as he fit his key into the door lock of his room. As soon as they were inside and he shut the door behind them, however, he set the briefcase down and scooped her up into a hug, his glee finally spilling over as a laugh of delight against her cheek.

Jemma laughed as well, tightening her arms around his neck as her feet left the floor. “You did it!” she cried, closing her eyes as another wave of triumph washed over her. “Oh, Fitz, I’m so proud of you.”

They had just finished presenting the full set of eight D.W.A.R.F.s to a panel of Fitz’s professors in the Engineering department at Stanford, and it had gone so much better than Jemma had expected. Not that she had thought it would go badly--they’d taken their time over the summer and fall to finish the drones, wanting to get them absolutely perfect--but the panel had reacted very enthusiastically to their finished product. It was the culmination of over a year’s worth of hard work for Fitz, and she was beyond overjoyed for him.

Fitz shook his head as he set her down, his hands moving to her hips. “ _We_ did it,” he said, smiling at her. “I couldn’t have done this without you, Jemma.”

Jemma bit her lip as she looked down, feeling a bit shy in the face of his praise. “Oh, that’s not true,” she murmured, fiddling with the collar of his dress shirt. “You got most of the work done before I was ever involved, and you won the grant money entirely on your own. I only added a few suggestions here and there.”

“It _is_ true,” Fitz countered, sliding his arms around her back again and pulling her close. “You helped Sneezy realize his full potential, you provided invaluable support and feedback on the rest of the D.W.A.R.F.s, you supplied information that would have taken me weeks to research on my own, you stayed up with me on more late nights than I can count, you kept me from getting too far inside my own head...I could go on for ages. You’ve put in just as much work as I have. You’ve been amazing.” He smiled again, before licking his lips as a flash of what looked like anxiety passed through his eyes. “And--and that’s why I want to include your name on the paperwork when I send it in to the Patent Office next week.”

Jemma’s mouth dropped open as her hands went slack against his chest. “What?” she breathed, stunned. “But...but the D.W.A.R.F.s are _yours_...I--I can’t possibly take any credit for them.”

“I knew you’d say that.” He still looked a little anxious, yet there was an undeniable glow of tenderness in his eyes. “But I want to do this, Jemma. I want your name beside mine, and I want you to share in whatever benefits come from it. Because this is just the first one, you know. The first project we’ll do together. There’ll be more, I know it, because we’re partners, and we’re brilliant together, and--and because I trust you.” He swallowed. “You know that, right? That I trust you?”

Jemma stared at him, speechless, a lump forming in her throat. He’d ultimately forgiven her for what she’d done, that night after their senior prom, but it had taken some time for Fitz’s hurt to fully dissolve, and she’d had to work to regain his trust. The process hadn’t been without its bumps, but they were happy now. This--wanting to include her on the patent, making sure she knew he trusted her--felt like he was gently closing the last door on all the things that had pained them in the past.

“I do,” she whispered, her heart feeling like it would burst. “I know.”

“Good.” Relieved, Fitz pulled her forward into a kiss that left her dizzy. Jemma clung to him, his hands splayed wide and warm against her back as his mouth moved ardently over hers. They’d kissed hundreds, thousands of times by now, but each one still electrified Jemma, left her wanting more in ways Ed never had. She hoped the feeling never faded.

When they finally broke apart, chests heaving, it took them a moment to catch their breath. “More projects?” Jemma mumbled, thinking back to what he’d said earlier.

Fitz smirked. “I’m glad you asked. I’ve been thinking ahead, actually.” Letting her go, he took a step back and raised his hands, his eyes bright. “Hear me out, Jemma: _non-lethal weaponry_.”

She raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Oh?”

“Yeah!” He nodded, excitement building in his expression. “I got the idea while reading the news a couple of weeks ago. Just think, what with everything going on right now, how great would it be to have the option to just incapacitate, rather than shoot and possibly kill? And with something much more elegant and safe than a ruddy taser. It’s really suited to our talents, I think, too--I could come up with a design for the pistol, and you could work on a tranquilizing agent. We could revolutionize law enforcement, maybe even the military! And if we do it right, we could probably make it cost-effective, too, and really make it worth their while.” He grinned widely at her. “What do you think?”

She’d listened attentively and was in fact quite interested in his proposal, but Jemma chewed on her lip. “I love the idea, Fitz, but...we’ve got exams coming up soon, and we still haven’t finished our final Chemical Kinetics lab yet--”

Fitz held up a hand to stop her. “I know. We don’t have to get started right away. I just thought it could be something to look at while we’re at home over Christmas, you know, to keep us busy.”

Jemma beamed at him, her shoulders relaxing. “I knew I liked you for a reason.”

Fitz’s chest puffed out proudly. “Just putting my under-appreciated genius to good use,” he said.

“Hey!” Jemma pushed playfully at his shoulder. “I appreciate your genius _very much_ , thank you.”

He let himself be jostled, grinning, then checked his wristwatch. “Dinner isn’t for a couple of hours still. Do you want to see the notes I’ve got on the gun so far?”

Jemma pretended to mull over the question for a moment. “Or I could just appreciate your genius a little bit more,” she said slyly, looking past him to his unmade bed. “Didn’t you say Alex was going to be gone all weekend?”

Eyes wide and ears pink, Fitz turned to look at his roommate’s side of the room. “Uh--yeah--he did--but--” He gulped. “You make a compelling argument.”

Laughing, Jemma reached out to take his hands in hers. “How about this: let’s look at your notes first, then dinner. Then you get me all to yourself for the weekend.”

Fitz’s eyebrows rose hopefully. “Promise?”

She nodded firmly. “Promise.”    

“Fantastic.” He stepped past her to reach for the laptop sitting on his desk, then carried it over to the bed, gesturing for her to follow him. “I went ahead and looked up some stuff on paralytics for you, too, because some of the gun design will depend on what we end up using for the tranquilizing agent, so I’m eager to get your thoughts on this…”

Jemma smiled as she got settled on the bed next to Fitz, listening to him chatter away as he brought up the notes he’d gathered on his laptop. Accepting Raina’s bet may have ended badly, she reflected, but overall the outcome had been more than she had expected, more than she could have hoped for, and she had never been happier. It was all due to Fitz. He was easily one of the best things in her life now, and she couldn’t wait to see what all of their tomorrows would bring them--together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it! Hope you enjoyed it. Thank you so much to everyone who read and commented, your support means a lot. <3


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